


Secret Santa

by ReverieWilde



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, Friends to Lovers, Gift Exchange, Humor, M/M, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Harry Potter, Naughty Gifts, New Year's Eve, Romance, Secret Santa, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverieWilde/pseuds/ReverieWilde
Summary: December 2001. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco are all employees at the Ministry of Magic. Harry is wary of Draco's intentions until the Ministry hosts a "Secret Santa". Seeing Draco around the offices, and trying to have an open mind, Harry comes to find him much more agreeable than he thought. It's all fun and games until Harry begins to receive questionable gifts.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 34
Kudos: 413





	1. Christmas Spirit

After a long day at the Ministry, Harry took the lift to Level 8 with Ron to head home. In contrast to the way it looked on their way in, the Atrium was dressed for the holiday season. In the middle stood a tree Harry guessed to be about twenty feet tall. Many of the ornaments were easily the size of a wizard’s head. Lights shimmered among them, creating a festive mood. Red and gold bows adorned each fireplace, while the ceiling was spelled to look like a snowy evening.

“Blimey, is it that time of year already?” Harry asked.

“December first, mate. Where’s your Christmas spirit?” 

“I left it in my other trouser pocket,” Harry answered dryly.

“You need to get shagged, mate,” suggested Ron. “You’ve been a grump for months.”

“Have not.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe a bit.”

“What’s that?” Ron pointed to a large parchment posted on the wall. Several other wizards were gathered around it, reading.

Harry and Ron approached the notice. 

Ron read aloud. “Christmas is just around the corner. Why not spread some holiday cheer to your fellow Ministry employees? Become a Secret Santa and brighten someone’s day. Joining is easy. Simply submit your name on a piece of parchment by day’s end on December the seventh to the Level Seven secretary’s office. On December the eighth, participants will choose a piece of parchment with their recipient’s name. The fun begins on December the eleventh. For the following two weeks, feel free to indulge your beneficiary in any way you see fit–gifts, treats, favours–but try not to get caught. Secret Santas will gather on Christmas Eve in the Atrium for a Ministry sponsored cocktail hour, and to reveal themselves.”

Ron turned to Harry. “Sounds fun.”

“Fun? What if you get someone you don’t even know? Or worse, someone you dislike.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Ron shrugged. “But it could still be fun. Besides, you’re not just doing nice things for someone else. Someone is going to do nice things for you.”

“I don’t know,” Harry grumbled.

Nudging Harry in the ribs, Ron said, “Well, I’m going to do it. Wouldn’t it be funny if I got Hermione? But even if I don’t, I sort of like the idea of doing nice things for someone without them knowing. People are always trying to do things for me, still, after all this time.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Harry said. “I can barely go to a wizarding establishment without someone picking up my bill.”

“You _are_ our saviour.”

Harry shoved him lightly. “Come on. At least I can treat _you_. Let’s go to The Leaky Cauldron.”

⚯

The following week, Ron pestered Harry about becoming a Secret Santa until he finally agreed. He also urged him to find someone to date, or at the very least, have a one off.

“Hey, maybe you’ll pull the name of that cute bloke in the Department of Magical Education.”

Harry’s brows rose. “Excuse me? Did you just refer to a _man_ as cute?”

Blushing, Ron stammered, “Well, er, you know, that’s what Hermione called him.”

“Oh, so _she’s_ been putting you up to this. Is she still trying to play matchmaker?”

“She wants you to be happy. We all want you to be happy.”

“Even Ginny?”

“Yes, of course even Ginny. She’s not upset with you anymore. Really, she understands.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Harry sighed. “I just didn’t have a chance to sort out my feelings when I was younger with everything else that was going on.”

“I know,” Ron chuckled. “It took me nearly as long as you to figure out my own feelings. To think I could have let Hermione slip through my fingers . . .”

“We were all a bit distracted,” Harry said. “And to be perfectly honest, I’m still not certain what I’m looking for.”

“You’re only twenty-one. You don’t have to know yet. Hermione and I got lucky. That’s all.” Ron laughed. “I did, at any rate. Not sure Hermione got so lucky.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” Hermione’s voice called from the doorway to their office. “I’d say it was fate that brought us together. Are you two ready for lunch?”

“Hello, luv.” Ron crossed the room to give his girlfriend a kiss. “I’m so glad you finally transferred to our department.”

Hermione sighed. “There was nothing more for me in the Regulation of Magical Creatures. I was fighting an uphill battle.”

“Department of Law Enforcement’s gain,” Harry said. “I’ll meet you two down in the canteen. I’m going up to Level Seven to put my name into the Secret Santa pool. Maybe that cute bloke in Education will get me.” He winked.

“You told him.” Hermione swatted Ron’s shoulder.

“You know subtlety is not my strong suit. Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

“No matter who I get, or who gets me, I have to break out of this funk I’ve been in,” Harry said. 

“You have to let more than Ron and me into your life,” said Hermione. 

“It’s hard to know who’s in it for my celebrity. I wish the wizarding world would let it go already.”

“But you’ll never know if you don’t take a chance,” she warned.

Harry nodded, then walked past them to head up to Level Seven. He approached the secretary’s desk and smiled. The man behind the desk smiled back.

“Harry Potter. I was hoping you’d join the festivities. And I’m certain I’m not the only one. There are a fair number of witches and wizards that would love the chance to repay you for all you’ve done.”

“Please, I’ve been more than repaid. The prosperity of the wizarding world is all I ask. I’m only here to add a bit of cheer to someone’s day.”

“Well, you’ve certainly added a bit of cheer to mine.” The man handed Harry a small square of parchment.

Harry scribbled his name, folded the parchment, then handed it back.

“Into the bucket,” the man directed.

Peering into the bucket filled with folded papers, Harry dropped his inside. He walked away feeling a little more enthusiastic about the holiday season than he had before. Perhaps Ron and Hermione were right. Harry needed to let loose and have some fun. Playing Secret Santa might be just the ticket.

⚯

On December the eighth, employees from all throughout the Ministry gathered in the Atrium to choose a parchment from the bucket of possibilities. Harry was surprised to see just how many witches and wizards were participating. 

“Sure, and why not?” Ron said. “It’s not everyday the Ministry springs for a party. Everyone wants to attend. You have to take part in Secret Santa in order to go.”

“Oh, right.”

“And it’s wonderful way to foster fellowship among employees,” Hermione pointed out.

Just then, something across the room caught Harry’s eye–a head of unusually light blond hair.

“What the devil is _he_ doing here?”

“Who?” Ron glanced about.

“Draco Malfoy.”

Harry pursed his lips and snorted. He immediately made a bee line for the younger Malfoy. Through his determination, he vaguely heard Hermione calling his name. But he wouldn’t be deterred until he found out why Malfoy was there at the Ministry. A few people cleared the way as they saw Harry stalking their way. Malfoy turned, meeting Harry’s glare.

“Why are you here Malfoy?”

“Potter.” Draco nodded.

“Answer me. What are you doing in Ministry Headquarters?”

“Same as you. I work here.”

“Bullshit.”

Malfoy grinned.

“What’s funny?” Harry demanded.

“I don’t know. For some reason I expected you never used foul language.”

“Well I fucking do. And you haven’t answered my question.”

“Yes, Potter, I have. I work here. Just started a week ago, as a matter of fact.”

“Doing what?” Harry questioned.

“Shit work in Transportation, for now. Until I’ve proven myself. Then I hope to transfer to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Harry stood with his mouth hanging open. How in the name of Merlin did Malfoy manage to secure a job with the Ministry?

“You may have been able to fool the Wizard Resources department, but Shacklebolt–

“Hired me personally.”

“What?”

“Shacklebolt hired me himself. He’s determined that I am a fully rehabilitated former Death Eater.”

At a loss for words, Harry stood silent.

“I’m not sure I understand your surprise, Potter. You testified on my behalf at the Death Eater trials. Did you not truly believe in my contrition?”

“Uh, yes, of course. But . . .”

“Then you believe, even though I have taken measures to make up for my role in the war, I have no right to a life comparable to other wizards?”

“No, of course not.” Harry paused. “I mean, yes.” His brow furrowed.

“Clearly, you’re still conflicted,” Draco remarked.

“I’m just a bit confused. Why would you need a job anyway? Surely the Malfoy fortune is enough to live off?”

Smirking, Draco replied, “I could say the same about you. Thanks to Rita Skeeter, your own personal fortune is common knowledge.”

“But I didn’t do anything to earn any of that. I want to make my own way.”

“Then you _do_ understand.” Malfoy glanced toward the massive Christmas tree. “Pardon me, they’re starting to queue to pull parchments.”

“You’re participating in Secret Santa?”

“Yes. Why shouldn’t I?”

“No reason, I suppose. I didn’t think you’d be . . .” Harry thought better of finishing his sentence. He’d already insulted the man a couple of times during their conversation. Telling Malfoy that he thought he was not the sort who would want to do something nice for another person certainly wouldn’t make up for it. “No reason at all.”

“If that’s all, I should like to queue up.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Right.”

He watched Malfoy walk away, more confused than before he talked to him. Ron and Hermione were near the front of the queue, but Harry slowly walked over to the end. From his spot, he watched witches and wizards reach into the bucket and pull out the names of their holiday beneficiary. Some looked quickly and grinned. Others frowned. He shook his head. Why did he let Ron talk him into this?

When it was Malfoy’s turn, Harry watched. Though Malfoy looked at his parchment, his expression remained emotionless. He glanced Harry’s way, then smirked, leaving Harry with an uneasy feeling. It would be Harry’s luck to be chosen by the one person at the Ministry he didn’t want anything at all from.

By the time it was Harry’s turn, there were only a dozen or so parchments left. He reached in and pulled one out. Without looking at it, he made his way over to Ron and Hermione.

“Who did you get?” He asked Ron.

“I’m not telling. That’d defeat the whole purpose. Who’d you get?”

Harry laughed. “I haven’t looked yet.” He unfolded the paper. “ _Fuck_ me.”

“Why? Who is it?”

“I’m not telling.”

“You don’t have to,” Hermione said. “You got Malfoy, didn’t you?”

“I knew this was a stupid idea,” Harry groused. “Can I trade with one of you?”

“Right,” Ron let out a howl. “Oh, wait, are you serious? Like either one of us is going to play Secret Santa for that tosser.”

“Ron.” Hermione gave him a stern look. To Harry, she said, “Shacklebolt arranged for several former Death Eaters to be employed by the Ministry. I’m sure he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t feel they were trustworthy.”

“You knew?”

“It was in the monthly newsletter. You must not have read it.”

“Oh.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Despite what Hermione said, neither of them wanted to trade parchments with Harry.

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “I’ll just deal with it. I’ll throw a couple of trinkets his way and be done with it.”

“Not exactly the spirit of the season, mate.” Ron said, appearing to have regretted it the moment he did.

Harry sighed. “You’re right. He signed up expecting his benefactor to put in a good effort. At least it’s only for two weeks.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hermione smiled. “We’ve all got to do right by the people we’ve gotten.”

“Why? Who did you get?” asked Ron.

“No telling, remember?”

“It sounds like you got someone you’re not fond of, as well,” Harry said.

“Suffice it to say, she–or he, wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Ron smiled. “Well, I’m not complaining about mine. But if you’re not going to tell me who you have, I’m not saying who I have.”

“Fine, Ron.” Hermione snorted. “No need to gloat.”

“Good thing it’s Friday. I could use a drink,” Harry said. 

“Leaky Cauldron?” Ron asked.

“Yeah. My treat.”

“You treated last time.”

“But this time I’ll be paying for more than just your drinks. You two are going to going to help me figure out how to pull off being Malfoy’s Secret Santa.”

⚯


	2. Reluctant Santa

Saturday afternoon, Harry took a trip to Diagon Alley in order to do some Christmas shopping. He knew exactly what he wanted to get Hermione, and had an idea of what he might get Ron. He’d find something for Teddy from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Perhaps a pygmy puff or a Tiny Twister. The difficult thing would be finding something small, yet respectable for Malfoy. 

“I can’t believe have to give Malfoy gifts,” he grumbled to himself. “I don’t even know what the hell he would like.”

He decided to go to Flourish and Blott’s first, to pick up two books Hermione wanted. His next stop was Rosa Lee Teabag. The shop carried a special blend of loose tea Hermione adored. But it was more expensive than her regular tea, and she rarely treated herself.

An idea came to him that perhaps Malfoy would enjoy the same tea. Everybody loved tea, didn’t they? And if he knew his teas, he would know it cost more. That was something Harry thought Malfoy would appreciate.

He had two tins of tea wrapped up in Christmas paper and left, satisfied with his purchases. After another hour or so, Harry had gotten most of what he went to Diagon Alley for. One last stop at Sugarplum’s for his favourite sweet and Harry disapparated home.

⚯

On Monday, Harry arrived at his desk to find a small package with a red ribbon tied on it. There was a tag which read To Harry Potter from your Secret Santa. 

“Damn. I didn’t think to write a note with the gift.”

“What’s that?” Ron asked.

“I forgot to include some sort of note so Malfoy knows the gift is for him.”

“Shh, Harry, you don’t want anyone to find out who you have. That would spoil the fun.”

“Right.” Harry began rooting through his desk for something to write on. Finally, he ripped off a piece from a used sheet of parchment.

“Wait. Do you think Malfoy would recognize your handwriting?”

“Aren’t you taking this a bit too seriously Ron? It’s just a game. I’m not really all that concerned whether or not Malfoy figures it out.”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t want my person to figure it out though. At least, not until the end.”

“Who do you have? Or are you still not telling me, even though you know who I have?”

“Um, I wasn’t planning to. But . . . ever since I picked the name, I came up with a plan. I’m not sure it’s a good one, so, maybe I should tell you. In case I’m completely barmy.”

“You’re starting to worry me, Ron. What do you have planned?”

“Well, I figured I’d start out with chocolates, then flowers, then something from the antique shop, then, I don’t know, something new.”

“Ron, what are you talking about?”

“You know the saying. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. I haven’t quite figured out the borrowed part. I mean, how can I give a gift that she can’t keep?”

Harry stood, mouth agape. “Are you Hermione’s Secret Santa? Are you going to ask her to marry you?” he whispered.

“Barmy, right?”

“No. It’s brilliant.”

“Really?”

Harry grinned. “What can I do to help?”

“Talk me out of it?”

“Not a chance. Can I help you deliver her gift?”

“Nah, I came in early and left the first one on her desk. But, you know me, I’m never early. I’m not sure how I’m going to get a gift on her desk every day without her catching me.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Every day? I’m supposed to give Malfoy a gift every day?”

“You don’t _have_ to. But I think most people expect a little something each day. It doesn’t have to be big. It could be a fairy cake.”

“Oh.” The thought of coming up with something nice for Malfoy every day for the next two weeks seemed daunting.

“And then on Christmas Eve, at the shindig held by the Ministry, you hand deliver the last gift. Didn’t you read the rules at the bottom of the post?”

“Not really,” Harry admitted. “Bollocks. I wish I had. Then I’d have known what I was getting myself into.”

Harry wrote Draco’s name on the small piece of parchment he tore off and magically stuck it to the wrapped tin of tea. It occurred to him that he forgot what department Malfoy said he’s in. Harry groaned to himself. Now he would have to take the time to find out. This Secret Santa business was going to be more work than he counted on.

Taking the tin with him, Harry walked down the hall to look at the staff directory. There he found Draco’s name among the employees of the Department of Magical Transportation.

“Oh, that’s right,” Harry said to himself.

He glanced up at the clock. Malfoy would be at his desk by now. Harry decided to wait until lunch time to make his way up to Level Six to drop off the gift.

When he got back to his own desk, Ron was eating biscuits Harry didn’t remember seeing earlier.

“Where did you get those?” he asked.

“They just appeared,” Ron told him. “I think there was a timed disillusionment spell on them. They’re from my Secret Santa.”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea.” Harry gasped. “I just had another idea. I’m going to send this by owl. I’ll be right back.” He tapped Malfoy’s gift.

Harry went up to the Ministry Owlery to have his package delivered. Afterward, he stopped by a large Snowy Owl to give it a treat. Fours year hadn’t diminished the regret he had at losing Hedwig. But he still could not bring himself to replace her.

Satisfied with his delivery solution, Harry returned to his office to complete paperwork for his latest case.

Breaking the silence, Ron said, “Aren’t you going to open up that package?”

Harry chuckled. “I forgot all about it.”

He picked it up and shook it lightly. The dull thud of the contents didn’t give him any hints as to the contents. Upon opening it, Harry found a beautiful treacle tart.

“My favorite. How’d they know?”

Ron laughed. “With all the biographies written about you, everybody probably knows your preferences. At least you’ll like everything you get.”

Harry’s smiled dropped a bit. “Kind of takes the fun out of getting to know a person. I mean, if everyone thinks they know everything there is to know about me, no wonder I haven’t had much luck making friends outside of you and Hermione. Especially dating.” Harry paused thoughtfully. “Hmm, it always seemed as though I was the only one making an effort in a relationship. I fear I’ve judged some of them more harshly than they deserved.”

“That could be true. I mean, Hermione and I never bothered to read any of those books. But I suppose people who did might think they know you well enough. Not that they should. It’s not an excuse for not being a good partner. You just haven’t met the right person for you.”

“Man. The right man, Ron. I know you and Hermione are still a bit uncomfortable with the notion that I’m gay.”

“It’s not that. It’s confusing for us. You used to date girls. You liked Cho. And Ginny.”

“Because I thought I was supposed to. I thought there was something wrong with me when I was younger. I may not be any luckier in love, but at least I’m not pretending anymore.”

Ron nodded. “We want you to be happy. Ginny included.”

They went back to doing their paperwork in silence until lunch time. Harry stretched. “I’m going to the canteen. Want to come?”

“I’ll join you but I probably shouldn’t. I’m saving up for the–ring,” Ron whispered. 

Harry nodded and the pair headed to lunch. They queued for some Yorkshire Pudding and pot roast, then found a table near the back. A few other coworkers sat with them and kept up a lively conversation regarding the first day of Secret Santa.

“I already figured out who has me,” Mathilde from Misuse of Muggle Artefacts said.

“How could you know after just one day?” Robert, another Auror questioned.

“I’m good,” she smirked. “Actually, I saw my Secret Santa put my first gift on my desk.”

“How do you know your Santa didn’t get someone else to do it?” Ron asked.

“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” she frowned.

“Besides,” Robert said, “it wouldn’t be fun to figure it out too soon.”

Harry was distracted from the conversation at that point. Malfoy had walked into the canteen with another man, both appearing equally unsure. Harry wondered if the other man was a new employee as well. He continued to watch as the pair entered the queue for cold sandwiches. The two men talked and Malfoy even smiled. And not that annoying sneer he always had as a child. A genuine smile. Then he laughed. And though Harry couldn’t hear their conversation at all, just seeing them laugh made Harry smile.

Then Malfoy looked directly at Harry, and the smile dropped. So did Harry’s.

A nudge drew Harry’s attention.

“You finished mate?” asked Ron.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Harry said. “Let’s go back up and I’ll share the treacle tart with you.”

“You’re on,” Ron grinned.

As they left, Harry glanced back at Malfoy one more time. He was talking with others at his table, and he appeared to be enjoying himself. More notably, the other people at the table seemed to be enjoying his company.

In their office once again, Ron stared down the tart.

“I guess you want a piece?” Harry chuckled. He took out his wand and waved it over the treat.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked.

“Can’t be too careful. I want to make sure there’s no love potion in it, or something more sinister.”

“Blimey, I didn’t even think of that. I just ate the biscuits. I don’t know if I’m cut out to be an Auror.”

“Why? Because you didn’t think of casting a revealing spell on your biscuits before you ate them? We can probably assume gifts given within the Ministry are safe.”

Harry sliced the tart in two, giving Ron one of the pieces. 

Ron sighed. “Except you didn’t. You’re really good at this job. You’ll be Head Auror before you know it. Maybe head of the whole department someday. And I’ll still be fumbling along.”

“You’ve improved since you started. You’ll keep getting better,” Harry encouraged.

“I don’t know.” Ron paused, then gave Harry a quick glance. “Georgie’s been asking me to help him with the shop.”

“What?” Harry stopped eating his tart. “You don’t want to be an Auror anymore?”

“I’m tired of chasing down criminals. We’re always dealing in bad news. The joke shop’s fun and exciting. George says business is doing so well, he needs a partner. I don’t think he’d trust anyone but family.”

Harry frowned at the thought of working with someone other than Ron as a partner. He wanted Ron to be happy, but he also wanted a partner he could trust with his life. Ron was right. Harry wanted to be Head Auror, and eventually, Department Head. He would inevitably leave Ron behind. Who was he to stand in the way of Ron working alongside his brother?

“What does Hermione think?”

“I haven’t said anything yet,” Ron said sheepishly. “I’m hoping she’ll agree to marry me before I hit her with it.”

Harry laughed. “Bait and switch, eh?”

“I don’t want to give her any reason to say no.”

“She won’t, Ron. She won’t.”

⚯

After work, Harry made a quick trip to Hogsmeade to buy a few more things to finish up his Christmas shopping for Teddy and Ron. While he was there, he looked for a few small things to give as Secret Santa.

At Hog’s Head Inn, he purchased a bottle of Christmas mead for Ron. He also bought another one for Malfoy. Honeydukes was the next stop, to get sweets for Teddy. A bar of rich, dark chocolate caught Harry’s eye, and for some reason he thought Draco would fancy it over milk. Shortbread biscuits to go with the tea he’d already given rounded out Harry’s order.

Armed with three more gifts for Malfoy, Harry went home to wrap them. As he did, he couldn’t help getting a little charge out of playing Santa. Even if it was Malfoy he was surprising, Harry found the experience gratifying.

Upon arriving at work the following morning, he went straightaway to the Ministry Owlery. He sent the biscuits off, then headed to his office with a spring in his step.

In the hallway, he nearly bumped into Draco.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Harry couldn’t help the accusatory tone of his question, despite the fact that he had just dropped off a gift for the man.

“I was . . . delivering some paperwork.” Malfoy smirked.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Right.”

“Like it or not, Potter, I have just as much right to roam freely about the Ministry as you have.”

“I know. I . . .” Harry sighed. “I know Shacklebolt wouldn’t have hired you if he didn’t think you were up to the task. But it’s going to take some getting used to seeing you around here.”

“Because you still don’t think I belong here?”

“Uh . . .”

Draco pursed his lips. “Well, I suppose I should have expected to encounter prejudice. I didn’t think it would come from you. I thought the saviour would be above such behavior.”

Having been verbally shamed, Harry watched Malfoy tromp away, presumably back to his Level Six office. He groaned to himself. It seemed that every time Harry interacted with Draco, he managed to insult the man. And truthfully, Draco hadn’t done anything to warrant it.

Harry never thought of himself as prejudice. But he could see that from Draco’s perspective, Harry appeared to be less open-minded than he thought he was. Perhaps a visit with the Minister would help Harry come to terms with the situation.

⚯

“What can I do for you Harry?” Shacklebolt smiled.

“Do you have a moment? I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Of course. Come in.”

Harry sat down in a chair opposite the Minister’s desk. He glanced around at the portraits of former Ministers for Magic. Even they seemed to be judging Harry for his lack of sensitivity regarding the former Death Eaters.

“What’s troubling you Harry?”

“I wanted to ask you about the new employees. Are they all Death Eaters?”

“No. Not all of them, but most. Does that bother you?” Kingsley leaned back in his chair, making Harry feel even more ashamed.

But he persisted. “To be honest, a little.”

“Why is that?”

“Because they’re Death Eaters.”

“Former.”

“Semantics,” Harry said. “I’m all for integrating former Death Eaters into society. It’s better than having them languish in prison. But the Ministry? Would you hire murderers and thieves to work here as well?”

“None of these former Death Eaters have been convicted of violent crimes. They are not murderers.”

“But I’ll wager most of them are thieves.”

“That’s rather a blanket statement. And do you think they should suffer their whole lives for making the poor decision of pledging faith to a man who very likely threatened their lives if they didn’t? Do you see the world so black and white that you have no shades of doubt?”

Harry pursed his lips.

“Let me ask you a question,” Kingsley continued. “Are there any extenuating circumstances in which you would forgive theft or deceit? Or, perhaps the use of Unforgivables?”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “We were fighting for our lives. And the lives of everyone in the wizarding world.”

“Including Death Eaters? Or only those you personally deemed worthy?” Before Harry could retort, the Minister said, “If I took a hard line on illegal activities carried out under the extreme conditions of war, we’d have precious few employees here at the Ministry. And I wouldn’t be able to count myself among them.”

Picking at his nails, Harry considered the Minister’s words. He still didn’t see that his situation was comparable to the Death Eater’s. However, war brought desperate times, and therefor, desperate measures.

“Your strong sense of morality, of right and wrong, has served you well as an Auror, Harry. I don’t want to take that away from you. Because I also know that you are capable of a great deal of compassion. Let’s give these people a chance. Not all of them have been shown kindness in their lives. They might surprise you. The way you surprised many who thought a mere boy couldn’t defeat one of the most powerful wizards in history.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll try sir. I do recall what it felt like to have so many against me. Even Ron had lost faith in me for a short time.”

“Yes. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have such loyal friends.”

Standing, Harry said, “Thank you Minister. I think I understand now. I should get back to work.”

“My door is always open. Come and talk to me anytime.”

By the time Harry reached his office, he had decided that he would not only show more kindness towards the Death Eaters who were now fellow employees, he would try to make up for his feelings of ill will toward Draco personally.

He smiled, as playing Secret Santa gave him the perfect opportunity to do just that.


	3. Let's Give These People a Chance

Four days into the holiday festivities, Harry had given Draco tea, biscuits, Fizz Orange Marmalade and a tea cup emblazoned with the letter D. Harry was fairly proud of the theme he had going, but he was running out of ideas. He still had the mead and the chocolate bar, but he still needed gifts for Tuesday through Friday, then something special for Christmas Eve.

Some investigating was in order. He was an Auror, after all.

Unfortunately, while Harry was busy being as thoughtful as possible, his own Secret Santa had taken a turn for the worse. In the beginning, he had gotten lovely gifts, such as the treacle tart, dragon hide gloves and color-changing ink, which he had loved as a child. Then on the fourth day, Harry was in for a shock as he opened his gift of the day.

“What did you get today, Ron?”

“Banoffee pie. Want some?”

“No, thanks. Have you only gotten food items?”

“Yeah.” Ron grinned. “I guess my Secret Santa really knows me.”

Harry laughed as he tore off the wrappings of his gift. It was a small box–the sort jewelry might come in. When he opened it, he frowned.

“What is it?” asked Ron.

“It’s a ring. But, like, for a giant or something.”

“A ring? As in wedding ring?”

“No, no. It’s rather plain. But, like I said, it’s much too big for me.” Harry held up the ring for Ron to see.

“Blimey, that looks like a–” Ron was suddenly tight-lipped.

“A what?”

“I’m kind of surprised you don’t know what that is, mate.”

“Why?”

“Well, because you’re, you know, gay.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Ron groaned. “Don’t you blokes like to use . . . toys and . . . stuff?”

Blushing, Harry admitted, “I don’t have that much experience. Are you saying this is a–fuck, this is a cock ring.”

It was Ron’s turn to blush. “You might want to keep your voice down, mate.”

Harry examined the plain ring. It was brushed metal, perhaps nickel, with an ivy leaf design etched into along the edge. He glanced down at his crotch, imagining whether or not it would fit. He blushed again. Harry was well enough endowed, but the ring seemed a bit bigger than necessary.

“Who would give me this?”

Ron shrugged. “Maybe it’s a joke gift.”

“But the others were perfectly normal. And they were things I’ve either said I enjoy or said I’d like to have. Have you ever used one of these?”

“Nah. And even if I did, I’m not showing you what it’s for.” Ron laughed.

Harry shot him a look. “Just because I haven’t used one doesn’t mean I don’t know what it’s for. I’m not _that_ naive. I know plenty.” He mumbled under his breath, “I just don’t have anyone to use it with.”

“Sorry, mate. I’m just taking the piss. The most deviant Hermione and I get are sexy knickers.”

“Yeah, I really don’t need to know what you–

“Ready for lunch, boys?” Hermione swept into the room, prompting Harry to quickly put the cock ring back into its box.

“Blimey, is it lunch time already?” Ron reached under his desk for his bag, then stood.

“Did you bring your lunch again, Ron?” Hermione asked.

“Getting a jump on eating well in the New Year,” He smiled weakly.

Harry slipped the box into his drawer and left with his friends. Queuing up, he glanced around to see if anyone was looking at him in any peculiar manner. There were plenty who glanced back, but none who seemed to have any ill intentions.

“So, what did you get today, Hermione?” Harry tried to distract himself from his own strange gift.

“Oh, a pair of earrings. Look. I’m already wearing them.” She lifted her hair out of the way to show him.

“Pretty.”

“I guess you must really like them if you’ve already put them on,” Ron commented.

“Don’t you like them?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course. Anything looks pretty on you.”

Hermione smiled at the compliment. “My Secret Santa has excellent taste. So far, I’ve gotten roses, chocolates and a brooch. And of course, the earrings.”

Harry began to zone out of the conversation. He heard giggling to his left and looked to see Malfoy and his table mates enjoying a laugh. But Malfoy didn’t look his way, even for a moment. As he ate, Harry remembered Kingsley’s words. _Let’s give these people a chance._ Perhaps his Secret Santa hadn’t realized what he or she purchased. He couldn’t think of what else they may have mistook it for. But he decided to hold judgement and see what he got on the fifth day.

⚯

“No, I’m not telling you,” Harry said to Ron.

“Then just show me,” Ron begged. “It must be worse than the cock ring by the color of you cheeks!”

“Fuck you.”

Ron laughed. “Don’t take it out on me if you’ve got yourself a naughty Secret Santa. Come on, please. I’ve got to know.”

Harry sighed forcefully. “Fine. It’s a,” he glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, and whispered, “butt plug.”

“Come again?”

Harry held up the bejeweled stopper.

“Are you sure that isn’t a wine stopper?”

“I have wine stoppers. They’re typically very pointy and taper down. This is, well, _not_ a wine stopper. I’m fairly certain.”

“Maybe your Secret Santa thought it was, though,” suggested Ron.

“Yeah, that’s possible. I wish I knew who it was,” Harry said. “I don’t want another week of sex toys.”

“Why not?” Ron chuckled. “Saves you the embarrassment of having to go out and buy them yourself,”

Harry crumpled up a piece of parchment and threw it at Ron. “Did I say _fuck you_ already?”

They worked in silence for a while, but Harry could hardly stay concentrated on the paperwork in front of him. Not that he had much to do anyway. Crime seemed to have taken a holiday along with the rest of the world. Every so often a pair of Aurors would be called for some minor infraction. There were a couple of shoplifters at Quality Quidditch Supplies, and three or four skirmishes at the Leaky Cauldron. But other than that, things were fairly quiet.

“So, did you figure out what to give Hermione for the borrowed part of the saying?” 

Ron looked up. “Yeah. I did. I figured out everything. With Georgie’s help.”

Harry waited. “And?”

“Oh, you’re talking to me again?” Ron chuckled.

Harry crumpled up another piece of parchment and threw it at him. “Just tell me.”

“Okay, so I actually went to a Muggle library and borrowed a book. Isn’t that brilliant?”

“Does she realize it’s from a library?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t mentioned it. But I have two weeks before I have to give it back. And by then, I’ll have asked her to marry me, so I can explain.”

“All right, yeah, that’s pretty good. What about everything else?” Harry asked.

“Mum made a blue scarf for me to give her Monday. The rest of the week I’ve got champagne glasses, champagne, and a fairy cake. I need one more thing besides the engagement ring.”

“How about a sixpence? That’s a Muggle tradition of good luck.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“You seem awfully calm about all this, Ron.”

“Shouldn’t I be? You don’t think she’ll turn me down, do you?”

“No, of course not. But you’re not usually so composed when it comes to big decisions.”

“I guess maybe because this is an easy one,” Ron smiled. “I don’t like dropping her off at her doorstep, or having to say goodnight through the floo. I want her to stay with me, all the time.”

“I envy you, Ron. Both of you. Neither of you could have asked for a better partner.”

“You’ll find someone, Harry. You just have to be open to possibilities. I mean, who’d have ever thought Hermione and I would end up together? We never saw eye to eye on anything when we were younger.”

“So, you’re saying I should keep an open mind regarding my Secret Santa? Maybe it’s that hot bloke from the Department of Magical Education.”

“Hot? When did he go from cute to hot?” Ron questioned. 

“Since I checked him out after you and Hermione mentioned him.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Didn’t you ask him out?”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t even talk to him.”

“I bet he’d love to go out with you. You’re Harry Potter. Anyone would love to go out with you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

⚯

Meanwhile, Harry was still trying to come up with thoughtful gifts for a man he never wanted to be kind to in the first place. Occasionally, he was able to study Malfoy unobserved. One thing he’d been able to gather, by eavesdropping, was that the Department of Transportation was rather drafty. 

Using that piece of information, Harry purchased a handsome shawl. He’d had the opportunity to stealthily witness Draco open the gift, and was quite pleased when it was immediately thrown over his shoulders and admired.

Harry had half expected Malfoy to turn his nose up at the gift, as it was not the highest quality fashion. But the rules stated that Secret Santas had to stick to a budget, so that no one felt put out, or short-changed.

He knew the dragon hide gloves he received were expensive, however. And he did feel a bit guilty wearing them. But the naughty gifts were not necessarily costly, so perhaps it all evened out in the end.

On the sixth day of gift giving, Harry caught Malfoy in his hallway again. Resisting the urge to question his motives, Harry instead smiled.

“All right?” he asked.

Draco stopped short. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah. There’s no one else in the hall.” Harry snickered.

“Oh.”

“How do you like the job so far?”

Appearing a bit confused, considering their past interactions, Draco’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s going well.”

“Good. You don’t mind working in Transportation?”

Hesitating, Draco replied, “It isn’t where I’d like to settle, but for now, it’ll do.”

“Yes, you told me you want to transfer to Magical Law Enforcement eventually.”

“That’s right.” Malfoy still seemed confused.

“How is your mother?”

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s with all the questions?”

“Uh, it’s come to my attention that I haven’t been exactly welcoming to Kingsley’s new hires.” Harry didn’t want to tip his hand that he was fishing for personal information that he could use to better his gift giving skills.

“I’ll say.” Malfoy’s stance relaxed. “If you’re sincere, my mother is well. She’s a bit miffed that I moved out of the Manor right before the holidays, though.”

“Oh, you have your own flat?”

Draco nodded. “It’s a studio flat, but I can do whatever I please in it. There’s a wonderful sense of freedom that comes with that. Even if I did have to sacrifice my potion workspace to get it.”

“I didn’t think you enjoyed potions that much.”

“I never put much effort in at Hogwarts. Since then, however, I’ve had time on my hands. And I’ve improved greatly.”

Just then, Draco’s stomach growled loudly. He looked horrified, but Harry chuckled.

“Skip breakfast, did you?”

Blushing slightly, Draco said, “I usually do. I’m still getting used to the work schedule. When I was effectively banished to the Manor after the war, I kept odd hours. There seemed no point in getting up at a reasonable time.”

“I didn’t know you were under house arrest.”

“Not officially. But no one wanted anything to do with we Malfoys after the trials. We put ourselves in exile. Until the Minister reached out.”

“ _He_ reached out to you? I assumed you all came to him.”

Draco shook his head. “I would never have presumed to be considered for work in the Ministry. He offered us a chance to start over. At the bottom, of course.”

“Harry, get your thumb out of your arse and get in here!” Ron called from the end of the hallway. “Oh. Oops.”

Harry’s cheeks bloomed. “Sorry,” he said to Draco. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Yes” Malfoy abruptly turned and walked away, leaving Harry to contemplate the most civilized conversation he’d ever had with his former rival.

“What was Malfoy doing lurking about?” Ron asked when Harry came into the office.

“I never thought to ask. That’s the second time I’ve seen him in our department.” Harry gasped. “I wonder if he’s my Secret Santa.”

Ron shook his head. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I found out who has you.”

“It’s got to be Malfoy. Who else would send me such crude things?”

“I’m telling you, it’s not him. I have it on great authority that it’s Maeve Cosgrove.”

“Maeve Cosgrove? No. Not a chance. She isn’t the sort.”

Ron grinned.“Maybe she’s secretly saucy and she’s trying to get into your pants.”

“I guess she didn’t get the memo that I’m gay. I feel it’s going to be a very awkward Christmas Eve.”

“Or maybe she really didn’t know what she was buying. Tomorrow’s gift might be licorice wands or chocoballs.”

Harry could only hope.

⚯

By the middle of the week, Harry had collected a blindfold, flavored massage oil and a pair of nipple clamps. He’d also collected a handful of new nicknames, courtesy of his fellow Aurors. Ron had opened his big mouth and mentioned some of the things Harry had received. From then on, the Aurors came round to see what Harry had opened that day. On Thursday, when he opened up a package containing a vibrator, he had long given up giving his Secret Santa the benefit of the doubt.

“For massaging sore shoulders?” Ron offered.

“Not bloody likely. Someone’s definitely taking the piss. When I find out, I’m going to toss all this shit back in his face.”

“I already told you, it’s Maeve Cosgrove.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“She isn’t exactly the best at sneaking around. Colm Stuart saw her leaving your gifts the first two days. I’m sorry this hasn’t been exactly fun for you.”

“Well, it might be if it was from a boyfriend or something. But not from Maeve.”

Ron shrugged. “There are only two more gifts to go.”

“Yeah. And I get to receive the last one in front of everyone.” Harry groaned.

Pete Quimby, another Auror, ducked his head in their office. “What is it today, Harry? A box of johnnys?”

“No, it’s a bob,” Ron answered.

“Bob?”

“You know, battery operated boyfriend.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ron.” Harry scowled.

Pete laughed and left to inform the rest of the team.

“Thanks a lot,” Harry grumbled. “I can’t imagine what name they’re going to give me for that one.”

“Oh, they’re not that bad,” Ron said. “Nobody knows what they mean when they call you Lord of the Ring. I didn’t know until you explained to me about those Muggle books.”

“Yeah, except sometimes they call me Lord of the Cock Ring.”

Ron pursed his lips together in attempt to stifle a laugh. It didn’t work.

“I am never letting you talk me into doing this again.” Harry said.

His experience on the receiving end was nothing short of hellish. On the other hand, Harry had actually enjoyed choosing and delivering gifts for someone else, even if it _was_ Malfoy. He gave him an ornament for what Harry presumed would be his first Christmas tree on his own. He also gave him a vial of dragon’s blood and a small bundle of unicorn hair to help with his potions hobby.

With only one gift left before the Christmas Eve, Harry wanted to do something more than simply buying an item Malfoy would like. He wanted to do something personal. Shacklebolt had been right. A little kindness had gone a long way. Though they didn’t have another lengthy conversation, he and Malfoy had been cordial over the past few days. And Harry had managed to let go of any animosity toward the other Death Eaters as well.

Then, and idea hit Harry. Something he remembered from his conversation with Draco.

⚯

Friday morning Harry arrived early, and instead of going to the owlery, he tossed his invisibility cloak around him. He made his way to Level Six, careful to avoid bumping into anyone else. Pleased that he had arrived before Draco and his office mates, Harry pulled a plate out from under his cloak. On the plate was an array of breakfast items–egg, bacon, sausage, baked beans and homemade black pudding. Harry may not have been a gourmet cook, but he prepared a wicked good breakfast. He cast a warming spell over it and placed it down on Malfoy’s desk. Unable to resist, he pulled his cloak back around him and found a spot out of the way to watch Draco’s reaction.

Within ten minutes, Draco trudged into his office and plopped himself down. Immediately spotting the food, he inhaled deeply. He appeared to be looking around the plate for something. Harry realized he forgot to leave a note with this gift. He hoped Draco would figure it out.

If the moans were anything to go by, Draco liked the dish very much. Satisfied with his final surprise, Harry snuck out. 

His mood fell when he found another package on his desk. He had no interest in opening it up.

“Morning, mate,” Ron said cheerfully. “Christmas pudding today.” He held up a forkful.

“Cheers to you,” Harry grumbled.

“Aw, come on. You’ve got another gift. A big one. I’m hoping it’s a dildo.”

“I’m hoping it’s a gag, to shut you up.”

Ron laughed. “You _are_ kinky, aren’t you? Open it. If you don’t, I’ll have to use my imagination. And I won’t stop talking about it until I finally find out what it is.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He glanced up to see that Pete and two other Aurors peeked in to watch.

Without enthusiasm, Harry tore off the wrappings. Inside was a box. He gingerly lifted the lid.

“Fucking hell. How did you know?”

Trying to keep a straight face, Ron said, “It makes sense, given all the other things.”

“Did _you_ do this?” Harry gritted through his teeth.

“No.” Ron burst out laughing. 

“Ron.”

“I swear, I didn’t. I did peek though.”

“You prat. Then why’d you make me open it?”

“I wanted to see the look on your face. That thing’s got to be twenty centimeters long.”

“I think I’ve got a new name for you, Harry,” Muggle-born Pete chuckled. “Dildo Baggins.”

The other Aurors howled with laughter. Though, one of them, as well as Ron, needed it explained to them.

Harry was understandably moody the rest of the day. The entire Secret Santa business hadn’t turned out quite the way he thought. It was supposed to be festive and fun. All Harry got out of it were some embarrassing, useless toys. And plenty of humiliation.

Feeling as though he was being watched during lunch, he looked up to find Malfoy smirking at him. At least it seemed like a smirk. Perhaps his genuine smile just appeared as a smirk. Harry had to make a conscious effort not to scowl. He feared he was unsuccessful, as Malfoy’s expression turned sour as well. Then he looked away.

Harry continued to watch him. Malfoy seemed to have integrated himself well at the Ministry. He was social and well tolerated. The few times they spoke, he was cordial. And Harry wondered if, under different circumstances, they could have ever been friends.


	4. A Proper Thank You

Christmas Eve held no excitement for Harry. It was all he could do to keep from glaring daggers at Maeve Cosgrove. But he wasn’t supposed to know it was her, so he avoided her the best he could. The Ministry had provided a lovely assortment of starters, along with sparkling wine, aleand non-alcoholic beverages. Harry had downed two bottles of ale and was nursing his third before the gift exchange even began. Everyone but him appeared to enjoying themselves.

“You might want to slow down a bit, mate,” Ron said. “Or we’ll have to help you floo home.”

“I wish we could just get this shit over with.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. They each felt for their friend. And a little guilty for telling him how much fun the Secret Santa experience would be.

At eight o’clock, Secret Santas were directed to take the final gift to their respective recipients. Witches and wizards sought out their targets, mingling through small crowds, getting stopped on the way to their destinations, being surprised to find out who their benefactors were.

Harry stood holding on to a wrapped tube of parchment. He watched Malfoy cross the room and hand a young witch a small present, which she opened and presumably thanked him for. He had taken only two steps toward the man when Maeve cut him off.

“Happy Christmas Harry.” She smiled brightly and handed him a relatively flat box wrapped in red and green glittery paper. 

He noticed Ron nearby eagerly gawking at them.

“Happy Christmas Maeve.”

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if you even knew my name,” she twittered. “I hope you like it.”

Harry hesitated, then ripped the paper off the box. Oh well, if she thought she was going to embarrass him, he was going to dish it right back. To his surprise, he found a jumper inside. 

Ron was visibly disappointed by the gift.

Holding it up, Harry said. “It’s a good color for me. And quite soft. Thank you.”

“I do hope you liked your other gifts. It was quite exciting to be able to shop for Harry Potter himself.”

“Yes, thanks.” 

Another witch approached Maeve with a gift for her and she left Harry confused. Once again, Harry walked toward Malfoy, who appeared to be giggling to himself.

He held out the tube. “Happy Christmas, Malfoy–er, Draco.”

Draco blinked. “ _You_ were my Secret Santa?”

“Yes. Why, did you suspect someone else?”

“Just about _anybody_ else.”

Harry scratched his head. He didn’t know how to react to that. Surely, Malfoy could see that Harry no longer had the same ill will toward him that he had when they were younger.

“Aren’t you going to open that?” he gestured.

“Oh, of course.” 

As Draco slowly unwrapped, then unfurled the parchment, Harry couldn’t help that warm feeling in his belly–the one he got when he was spreading joy at the Christmas season. It was the same satisfaction he got when handing out gifts at the Weasley’s. It truly made Harry happy to make others happy.

Draco frowned. “How do you know my birthdate?”

“Oh, well, I had to do a bit of digging into personnel records. It wasn’t difficult really.”

“This is . . . this is very thoughtful,” Draco said as he stared at the personalized star chart of his birth. The constellation bearing his name was embossed in gold ink. There was a short passage describing the stars’ alignment on the day Draco was born, along with his zodiac sign, birthstone and lucky numbers.

He gazed up at Harry. “I can’t believe you did this. For _me_?”

“Well, I had it made. I didn’t make it myself,” Harry chuckled.

“No, I mean all of it. My first Christmas ornament. The potion ingredients. Did you make that breakfast?”

“I always made breakfast for my aunt and uncle. I got quite good at it. Don’t ask me for supper though,” Harry laughed. 

“I could buy you supper.”

“What?” Harry laughed again, uneasily.

But the look on Malfoy’s face told Harry he might be serious. They stared at each other a few seconds, then Harry tried to make his excuses.

“I should get back home. I’ve still got presents to wrap for the Weasleys.”

“Wait, Potter. Harry. I . . . need to tell you something.”

Harry paused cautiously. “All right.” The intensity with which Draco was staring began to make Harry feel self-conscious.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” he finally said. 

He turned and walked away. And for a moment, Harry was disappointed. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to hear. But he was left vaguely unsatisfied with the interaction. He believed Draco was sincere, however, Harry was fairly certain he meant to say much more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron waving wildly to him. Fuck, he forgot all about helping Ron with his proposal. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I just had a really weird . . . never mind. Where’s Hermione?”

“She’s still talking to the woman she played Secret Santa for.”

“I thought she didn’t care much for her.”

Ron shrugged. “I’m going to go on the other side of the Christmas tree. Can you send her over in about two minutes?”

“Do you want me to tell her it’s you waiting on the other side? Or just that her Secret Santa is there?”

“Secret Santa.” Ron wiped his brow. “Wow, it’s hotter than hell in here.”

“I think you’re just nervous, Ron. Don’t worry. She’ll say yes.”

Ron breathed out heavily. “I can’t catch my breath. This was a bad idea. Harry, why did you let me do this?”

“Snap out of it, Ron. It’ll be fine. You’ll ask. She’ll say yes. Then you can shag all night in celebration.”

Ron blinked. “Yeah. I never thought of that. She’ll probably let me shag her a few times tonight.”

Harry held up a hand. “TMI.” He looked across the room and saw that Hermione was finished talking to the other witch. “Now go behind the tree. I’ll send her over straightaway.”

He approached Hermione while Ron scooted around the Christmas tree.

“Did you successfully fool your Secret Santa?” he asked her.

“Yes. She was caught completely by surprise. She was quite thankful.” Hermione glanced around. “Where is Ron?”

“Uh, gee, I’m not certain.”

“Harry, I know Ron is my Secret Santa.”

“Oh. How?”

“Well, for one, I’m fairly certain Molly made the blue scarf. And, who else would think of going to a Muggle library for me?” She paused and smiled. “Did you help him with the clues?”

“George did. Except for the sixpence.”

“Ah, that was the clincher. And also the most puzzling. I didn’t think Ron would know about Muggle money.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “I think I know what the final gift may be.”

“Oh. He’s waiting for you behind the tree. Can you please put him out of his misery?”

⚯

Christmas day at the Weasleys household was cheerful. Doubly so, due to the announcement of not only Ron and Hermione’s engagement, but Bill and Fleur’s second child. Molly was beside herself, fussing over Fleur, and hoping out loud for many more grandchildren to come. Ron assured her that he and Hermione would eventually have children, but not seven.

Harry was happy to see the smiles on his adoptive family’s faces as they opened gifts from him. Victoire immediately began coloring in her magical creatures coloring book. And Arthur shared his Muggle wine with everyone.

“When are we going to get an announcement out of you?” George asked Harry.

Harry scoffed. “What sort of announcement do you expect?”

“We’re waiting for you to bring home a nice young man. You shouldn’t be all alone, especially on Christmas.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Never said it was.”

Sighing, Harry said, “We can’t all marry our best friend. They look so happy.”

“We all want you to be happy too.” George clapped him on the back. “Of course, anyone you bring home has to pass inspection by at least a dozen Weasleys.”

“Reason enough to stay single,” Harry laughed.

Though he had a wonderful time, he realized that he was the only one there still unattached. Even Ginny had moved on. Her boyfriend had only stopped by for a short while, to have pudding. But Harry admired the way he gazed at Ginny and was attentive to her needs. Molly and Arthur seemed to approve as well.

Perhaps Ron was right. Harry decided that he would pay a visit to the Department of Magical Education when he went back to work on Wednesday. It wouldn’t be too difficult to strike up a conversation with–he realized he didn’t even know the man’s first name. Still, he had to start somewhere.

⚯

Arriving a bit late to work the day after Boxing Day, Harry didn’t have time to go to the Education section on their level. He decided to try and catch up to the man he might like to get to know before or during lunch. Meanwhile, there had been a small rash of break-ins along Knockturn Alley that required the Aurors’ attention.

Ron and Harry apparated to Borgin and Burke’s to interview the manager and collect evidence. Then they went to Mulpepper’s Apothecary. Many of the other shops in the Alley had been shut down by the Ministry, as they had dealt in the Dark Arts. After stopping at two more shops, they returned to the office to start compiling testimonies. It was nearly lunch time when they needed a break.

Ron stretched his arms above his head. “Ooh.”

“All right, Ron?”

“Yeah.” He blushed.

“You sure?”

“Just a bit sore.”

“From what?”

“Uh . . .” Ron blushed again. “Celebrating?”

“I don’t want to know,” Harry mumbled. “Oi, do you know the name of that bloke Hermione was talking about? The one in Education?”

“Sorry, no. But I’ll wager she does. Why don’t you ask her?”

“That’s all right. I’ve decided to be bold. I’m going to talk to him and ask him myself.”

Ron grinned. “Good for you.”

“In fact, I’m going to do that right now.”

Harry got up and straightened his robes. Though he’d been working at the Ministry for a few years, he’d only gone to the Department of Magical Education two or three times, regarding minor incidents at Hogwarts. It was down the hall, to the right and in an alcove rather than a separate office. Determined, he strode toward his destination. As he turned the corner, someone blocked his way.

“Potter.”

“Uh, hello.” Over Draco’s shoulder, Harry could see his intended target, eavesdropping, but trying not to look like he was eavesdropping.

“May I have a moment?” Draco asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

It took more than a moment for Draco to finally speak again. “I wanted to thank you again for the gifts.”

“There’s no need. You’ve already thanked me.”

“But you could have given me worthless junk, or nothing at all. No one would have been the wiser.”

“It isn’t really in my nature to be purposely thoughtless.”

“I know that, now. Which is why I’d like the opportunity to thank you properly.”

“Aren’t you doing that now?” Harry asked.

“I’d like to take you to supper.”

Harry laughed at first, but seeing that the offer was genuine, he said, “I appreciate that, but it’s not necessary.”

“Please?”

Harry could see that it meant something to Draco to be able to show his appreciation in a way he deemed appropriate.

“Um, all right then.”

“Brilliant. Are you free tonight?”

“Tonight?” Harry nodded. “Should I meet you somewhere? The Leaky Cauldron?”

“I have somewhere else in mind. Jolie Sorcière. Do you know it?”

“No, but that’s fine.”

“Meet me in the Atrium at the end of the day and I’ll apparate us there.”

“All right.”

When Harry agreed, Draco took a deep breath and flashed him a smile. Harry didn’t mean to be, but he was dazzled by it. The smirks he usually received hadn’t been Draco’s genuine smile after all.

“See you at five o’clock sharp.”

Draco walked past Harry down the hall toward the lifts. Harry watched as Draco appeared to grow a few inches taller, head held high. What had he just agreed to? He looked around and couldn’t recall why he was in this area of the Ministry. Slowly, he went back to the office he shared with Ron.

“Oi, that was quick,” commented Ron. 

“Yeah,” Harry said absently.

“Oh no, he didn’t turn you down, did he?”

Harry shook his head.

“Good. You look a little shell-shocked, mate. When are you going out?”

“Tonight.”

“He moves quickly. I guess he doesn’t want Harry Potter slipping through his fingers.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Nothing. What’s his name, anyway?”

“Draco.” Harry’s brow furrowed.

“There’s more than one man walking around with that ridiculous name?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked.

“What are _you_ talking about?”

“Draco Malfoy.”

Ron rubbed his forehead. “I’m so confused. Aren’t you going out with that bloke from DME?”

“No. I forgot all about him. Draco asked me to supper.”

“And you said _yes_?”

“I think so.”

Ron laughed. “You think so?”

“No, I definitely did. But, it’s just supper. To thank me for the Christmas gifts.”

“Are you sure? Where is he taking you?”

“Why? Does it make a difference?” asked Harry.

“Yeah. If you’re going to the Leaky Cauldron or Three Broomsticks, he probably just wants to buy you a pint.”

Harry pursed his lips. He tried to think of the name of the restaurant Draco mentioned. He’d never heard of it before. Draco said it with a French accent.

“Jo–Joey Saucy?Joey Saucier?”

“Jolie Sorcière? Are you kidding me?”

“That’s it. You’ve heard of it?”

“Harry, I was going to take Hermione there to propose, until I got her for Secret Santa and came up with the new plan.” Ron whistled. “That’s a nice place. Harry, I think you’re going on a date with Malfoy.”

⚯


	5. Date or No Date

All day long, Harry contemplated his conversation with Malfoy. Never once was the word date used by either of them. Malfoy specifically said he wanted to thank Harry. That was all. Ron had to be wrong.

And yet, if Harry was being honest with himself, he’d admit that he was flattered by the possibility that Draco was interested in more than paying him back or friendship. However, he wasn’t even certain Draco was gay. He honestly hadn’t paid much attention to the man since the end of the war.

At five on the dot, the clock in Harry and Ron’s office chimed.

“What’er you going to do?” Ron asked.

“About what?”

“About your,” Ron lowered his voice, “date with you know who.”

“I’m not dating Voldemort. You don’t have to say it like that.” Harry snorted. “In fact, I’m not convinced he means it as a date at all. You know his family is used to posh restaurants. He probably thinks nothing of it.”

Ron’s head bobbed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. What I consider fine dining, Malfoy might consider bog-standard.”

“Exactly.” 

“I’m not sure if that was a jab at him or me,” Ron mumbled.

“It wasn’t a jab at either of you. I’m only saying that I agree with you. Malfoy probably doesn’t think anything of going to an upscale restaurant. Speaking of which, I should be going.”

“I still can’t believe you’re going out with Malfoy. Date or not, it’s barmy.”

Harry couldn’t disagree.

When he got up to the Atrium, he saw Draco standing near the closest floo. Harry noticed the large tree was gone, replaced by the traditional fountain. The decor, while still festive for the upcoming New Year’s Eve celebration, was devoid of hints of Christmas.

Draco looked his way, a trace of surprise on his face. Perhaps he was equally shocked as Harry that he’d shown up.

“Ron said the restaurant you chose is quite nice. I didn’t have anything dressy with me. Is this all right?” Harry asked.

“I think you look fine. However, the restaurant has a strict suit and tie policy. If you would allow me.” Draco took out his wand.

Harry shrugged, and Draco took that as permission to transfigure his clothing. Then he did the same to his own. Of course, Draco’s suit was black. He held his elbow out for Harry to take. Reluctantly, Harry placed his hand on Draco’s arm as they walked toward the floo.

In no time, they stood in front of what appeared to be a vacant storefront in the middle of London. Draco surreptitiously took out his wand and cast a quiet Revelio charm. The door to the restaurant shimmered into view. After taking a quick peek around, Draco opened the door and ushered Harry inside.

A hostess greeted them immediately. “Good evening. Have you booked?”

“Malfoy. Two.”

“Ah, yes. The blue room. Please follow me.”

Scanning the room and patrons as they walked through, Harry began to feel that he didn’t belong. Several people eyed him as he went by, although a few nodded in recognition. Most of the customers were dressed in formal wear and Harry felt self-conscious until he walked past a mirror. The clothing Draco transfigured for him looked as good as anything in Twilfitt and Tattings. The suit was a deep plum, the shirt lavender, and the tie wide stripes in various shades of blue and purple. And it fit Harry like a glove.

They were seated at a table for two and given menus.

“Vanya will be by shortly to take your order. Enjoy your meal.”

Opening the menu, Harry’s brow furrowed. “This is in French. And there are no prices.”

“I’ll be happy to translate. And don’t worry about the prices. I’m paying.”

“But–”

“It wouldn’t be much of a thank you if you had to pay,” Draco said.

Harry scoffed, “I’m guessing that if you have to ask the prices, you can’t afford them.”

“I told you not to worry about it. Do you like wine?”

“Um, I usually stick to beer or ale. Occasionally fire whiskey.”

“So, that’s a no?” Draco smirked.

“Not necessarily. What kind do you like?”

“It will depend on what I order.” Perusing the menu, Draco asked, “Do you enjoy seafood?”

“Yes.”

“The stuffed squid is delicious. Or perhaps lamprey?”

Harry stuck out his tongue, then quickly retracted it. “Sorry. That was childish.”

“Well, a wizard’s brain doesn’t fully mature until he’s roughly twenty-six. So, your indiscretion is forgiven.”

“Says who?”

“The latest healer research apparently.”

Harry stared for a moment. “Bullshite.”

“I had you there for a minute.” There was that smile again. “So, what are you in the mood for?”

At that very second, Harry was in the mood for something off the menu. Had Draco always had such a killer smile?Suddenly, Harry sort of hoped Ron was right about this being a date. He took a breath andhad to physically shake the thought from his head. It was only that he’d gone far too long without a good shag that he was thinking dirty thoughts about his host. 

Anyway, he had been on his way to ask out the cute bloke in the DME. _That’s_ who Harry was interested in. This was simply Draco paying back a kindness. 

Harry looked up to see Draco looking at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, I missed that,” he said.

“Am I so dull I’m losing your attention before we even order?”

“Of course not. I’m trying to make heads or tails of this menu.”

“How about duck?” asked Draco. “Will you eat that?”

“Yeah. I’m really not all that fussy an eater. But squid and lamprey–isn’t that an eel?”

Draco chuckled. “I’d wager if I didn’t tell you what it was ahead of time, you’d adore it.”

“Except you did,” Harry pointed out, still reading the names of dishes. Some, he recognized, others were completely foreign.

A server, presumably Vanya, approached them with a smile.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Do you trust me, Potter?” There was a mischievous glint in Draco’s eye. “I promise nothing too out of the ordinary.”

The odd thing was, he did trust Draco. At least when it came to ordering food for him.

“We’ll have the Coquilles St-Jacques starter, and bourride instead of salad. And we’ll each have Magret de Canard as a main.”

“Aubergine or spinach with that?”

Draco looked to Harry.

“Spinach please,” Harry said.

“May we have a bottle of Bordeaux Chateau Latour as well.”

“What year do you prefer sir?”

“Two thousand. And perhaps two glasses of mineral water.”

“Certainly. I’ll be right back with some bread.”

When she left, Harry leaned forward and in a soft voice asked, “What did you order us?”

“Scallops on the half shell, a light fish soup, and duck. Satisfactory?”

Harry nodded. Now that the ordering was out of the way, a strained silence took over. Harry had no idea what to talk about. Obviously, their rocky past was off limits. The longer they sat, the less certain Harry was that the whole evening wouldn’t turn out to be a disaster.

Even when the server came to place a small basket of bread on the table, the only thing either of them said was thank you. In an attempt to fill the void, Harry picked up his glass and drank. Then he finally came up with something to talk about.

“So, you said you’d like to transfer to Law Enforcement. Do you fancy being an Auror?”

“Oh, no. Certainly not.”

“Then what is it you’d like to do?”

“Ultimately become a member of the Wizengamot. But I fear I’ll have to settle for joining the Wizengamot Administration Service, being a former Death Eater.”

Harry knit his brow. “I assumed the slate was wiped clean when Shacklebolt hired you, and the others.”

“In a way. We’re on sort of a probationary period.”

“Oh. And then?”

“Then I hope to be treated as any other wizard. Do you enjoy being an Auror?”

“Sometimes. I could do without the paperwork though,” Harry admitted. “But I get to work with Ron. And I like the idea of keeping the wizarding world safe.”

“Yes, I imagine you would.”

“Have you used the potion ingredients yet?” Harry was pleased that he thought of another question.

“Not yet.”

Harry didn’t think it was his imagination that Draco was uncomfortable talking about the gifts Harry gave him. The whole dinner was supposed to be an acknowledgement of them, so he couldn’t see why they shouldn’t talk about them. 

“How about the tea? That particular kind is one of Hermione’s favorites. I like rather plain tea myself.”

Draco nodded. “It’s very good. Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you give me those things?”

“I was your Secret Santa.”

“I know. But why those particular things? Most of the people in my office received generic items, such as boxes of sweets or candles. You could have done the same.”

“Oh. Well, you had mentioned that you enjoyed practicing potions. And, as I said before, it was pointed out to me that I hadn’t been very accepting or kind toward you. Kingsley suggested a little kindness went a long way.” Harry snickered as he glanced about the restaurant. “I guess he was right.”

Draco nodded. “Quite true.”

After that, conversation became easier. Harry explained what he knew of the other branches in his department, Wizengamot Administration in particular. And Draco shared his limited knowledge of Magical Transportation. They talked about their respective Christmas holidays. Draco couldn’t imagine the chaos of a household of people as he normally spent Christmas with only his parents, and occasionally his father’s cousin’s small family.

Throughout the meal, as Harry relaxed more, their discussion grew a little more personal. Draco was becoming an individual to Harry, more so than before. He was beginning to think of him less as a Death Eater, or a an abstract idea of one. And he was finding it easier to be kind. Draco had been charming and attentive all evening. 

“Would you like pudding and tea?” asked Draco. “They serve a wonderful dried apricot and fig clafoutis.”

“I have no idea what that is, but I think I’m too full,” Harry replied.

Nodding, Draco signaled the server for the bill. He insisted on paying for everything, even when Harry asked if he could at least leave the tip. 

“Have a good evening,” hostess said as they left the restaurant.

Once out on the sidewalk, they stood awkwardly. Neither seemed in a hurry to leave.

“Thank you,” Harry said. “It was a really fantastic meal. Although, I’m quite certain you paid more for it than I did for all the Christmas gifts combined.”

“My pleasure. I do enjoy broadening others’ horizons. But I am disappointed I didn’t get you to try the lamprey.”

Harry chuckled. “Maybe next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Pausing at the implication that they might go out together again, Harry simply said, “Well, good night then.”

“Good night.”

Before he could register what was happening, Harry noticed that Draco was closer than he had been a moment ago. Soft lips covered his, and though it was chilly on the outside, warmth spread from his mouth to the rest of his body. The kiss was quick, almost chaste, and gentle. Harry didn’t even have time to close his eyes.

Draco stood back, calmly at first. But Harry could practically see the moment in Draco’s eyes he realized what he’d done. Draco’s mouth dropped open, then he blinked a few times, and finally, he blushed furiously.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I, uh . . .”

Harry didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. He leaned forward and kissed Draco back. Only Harry didn’t give him a quick peck on the lips. He curled his fingers around the back of Draco’s head to hold him there.

It wasn’t necessary. Draco returned the kiss with vigor.

The last thing Harry expected to happen was to find himself snogging his formal rival on the streets of Muggle London. In the back of his mind, he knew it was a bad idea. But Draco’s lips were soft and pliant–and oh, so willing. They tasted of wine with hints of herbs and garlic. Harry didn’t mind. He had enjoyed the taste of the food. Somehow, it tasted even better on Draco’s lips.

They pulled apart, gazing at one another. Draco’s skin was flushed, and he was gasping as though his breath were taken away. Harry imagined he was in a similar state.

“Did you mean to do that?” Draco questioned, prompting Harry to laugh.

“I don’t think it’s possible to accidentally snog.”

“I know. But I mean, is that what you really _wanted_ to do?”

A wicked smile grew on Harry’s face.

“Well, in public, it is.”

“And in private?”

Rather than answer, Harry merely looked Draco up and down. The man had filled in a bit since his days at Hogwarts. He was looking fit in his black suit and tie, and Harry couldn’t help wonder how he looked without them.

Without warning, Harry was disapparated away. Disoriented at first, he found himself in a small flat, presumably Draco’s.

Immediately, he was pushed up against a wall, Draco’s lips on his, and a tongue pushing its way inside his mouth. And Harry thought the _lips_ had tasted good.

Even as he mused how strange it was to be snogging a man who previously used his mouth to spew insults at him, Harry allowed Draco to press against him. The feel of Draco’s hard cock digging into his hip aroused him to the point beyond caring about their contentious past. It had been a long time since he’d been in a position to get off with someone other than his right hand.

With that notion, Harry’s hand traveled down to the fly of Draco’s trousers. Swiftly unbuttoning, then unzipping, he palmed Draco’s cock through the fabric of his pants.

Draco moaned into his mouth. “Fuck, Potter. I had no idea you’d be so bold. But if I may be bolder . . .”

Draco quickly undid Harry’s trousers, but he didn’t stop there. He reached into Harry’s pants. Frustrated by the lack of maneuvering room, he tugged the pants and trousers down to Harry’s thighs.

Harry gasped as he sprang free. Draco gripped him firmly and pumped slowly up and down.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry mumbled.

“Nice? I don’t want it to feel _nice_. I want you to feel fucking amazing.” 

Rubbing his fingers over Harry’s slit, he gathered some precum to use as a lube. Then he pulled himself free in order to massage their cocks together. While he glided his hand over them, he kissed Harry again.

It was too soon, but Harry was approaching the edge. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to. He decided to try and take Draco with him. His hands wandered to Draco’s chest. Even through the soft cotton fabric of his shirt, Harry could feel Draco’s hard nipples. Draco stopped kissing long enough to gasp.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Not without me,” Harry breathed. He fondled his own nipple in the same rhythm as Draco’s.

Draco’s hand sped up until they were both on the verge of hyperventilating. Harry was the first to burst, and he cried out. Draco soon followed with a long moan.

Draco rested his forehead in the crook of Harry shoulder where they stood for several minutes, unmoving.

With the heat of the moment past, reality began to set in for Harry. He opened his eyes. The hair on the head leaning on him was indeed the blondest he’d ever seen. Draco Malfoy had just wanked him senseless. He was speechless.

Picking up his head, Draco eyed Harry with a hint of a smile. “That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “But you don’t think it’s a bit strange? After all, we’ve been complete arses to each other.”

Draco straightened up, his expression hardening slightly. He pulled his wand from his secret pocket and cast a cleaning spell on them both. They tucked themselves in silently.

Harry was confused about Draco’s change in mood, until he spoke.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Draco had said those words to him earlier, at the final gift exchange on Christmas Eve.

“All right.” 

Draco took in a deep breath, then let it out. “I didn’t expect to enjoy this evening as much as I did. I didn’t expect–well, I certainly didn’t expect you to respond to me in such a positive manner.”

“Me neither,” Harry snickered.

“I’d like to do this again. All of it,” Draco said softly.

Harry smiled. “I think I would as well.”

“But first, I have to tell you . . . it was me. I was the one who sent you those . . . _accessories_.”

Frowning, Harry began, “What access–you mean the sex toys? _You_ sent those to me? How? Why?”

“I took the ones Maeve left and replaced them,” admitted Draco. “I thought it would be funny. It was meant to be payback for the way you treated me when you found out I was working for the Ministry.”

“I didn’t treat you _that_ badly. I’ll admit I was a little rude, but can you blame me? I spent years fighting the Death Eaters and then you all get a free pass.”

“Not a free pass. A second chance. I’ve cooperated with the Aurors and the Wizengamot. I’ve renounced the Death Eater ways. Surely you know that.”

Harry’s mouth became a hard, thin line. “And was tonight more payback?”

“No, it was supposed to make up for what I’d done to you. But I never intended to tell you it was me.”

“Then why did you?”

“For one, I didn’t want you to think badly of Maeve. She had nothing to do with it. But mainly, I wouldn’t feel right lying to you if we were to continue seeing each other.”

Harry scoffed. “Do you really think I’m going to go out with you _now_? You completely embarrassed me. Some of the other Aurors have taken to calling me inappropriate nick names.”

“I didn’t mean for it go so far.”

“Yes, you did. I saw you smirking at me that night. I didn’t know why until now. You’re only sorry because you want to have sex with me.”

Draco lowered his head. It was partly true. “But I _am_ sorry.”

“Finite Incantatem.” Harry’s clothing reverted back to his own. “I can’t believe I let you dress me up. I can’t believe I fell for the all the flattery and expensive food.” He clenched his fists. “I can’t believe I let you touch me that way.”

“Now who’s backpedaling? You enjoyed it at the time. And you admitted that you would like to do it again.”

“That was before I found out your true motives.”

Harry stomped toward the door. He was feeling conflicted, and angry–taken for a fool. All the while he was walking out, then slamming the door behind him, he half expected Draco to continue pleading his case. But the man let him leave without another word. Once out of the block of flats, Harry disapparated home.

At least he could take comfort in the thought that his instincts were correct. The evening was a total disaster.


	6. Date or No Date, Take 2

Dreading any upcoming conversation with Ron regarding his “date” with Malfoy, Harry dragged himself into work. The only silver lining was that the other Aurors weren’t aware that he had gone out with Malfoy. 

“Good morning Mr. Stopper, er, I mean Potter,” Peter giggled.

Harry sighed. “Can we stop with the names already? Or shall I start calling your Peter Quim? Now there’s a sexually suggestive name if I ever heard one.”

Peter pouted. “Fine.”

As Harry walked into his office, Ron glanced up. “That bad?”

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Harry protested.

“You didn’t have to, mate. So, what happened?”

Harry plopped himself into his chair. “He’s a fucking–” Harry nearly said wanker, but that would be all too accurate. “Prat.” 

“No kidding. But what did he do?”

“We had a fine meal and pleasant conversation, considering. Then he tells me he’s the one who sent all that shit to me during Secret Santa. And the arsehole had the nerve to expect me to praise him for his honesty.”

“No fucking way. Maeve Cosgrove was your Santa. I saw her give you your last gift.”

“He nicked her gifts and replaced them with the sex toys. The bastard. He said he did it because I wasn’t nice enough to him when he first started working here.”

“I also said I was sorry,” Malfoy said, standing in the doorway.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” demanded Harry.

Carrying a small bag, Draco walked to Harry’s desk. He placed the bag down. “These are the things I took. Miss Cosgrove wanted you to have them, so . . .”

“Oh, how gracious of you,” Harry mocked. 

“I’m not trying to be gracious. I’m trying to apologize. Again.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done anything to apologize for in the first place. I was nice to you and you rewarded me with smutty gear. Maybe that’s what _you_ need to get going but I don’t.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth lifted. “No, you certainly didn’t.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open.

“Get out, Malfoy!” Harry shouted.

Even long after Draco left, Harry could feel Ron’s stare on him. He refused to look at his friend, though. There was a conversation he truly didn’t want to have.

“Get back to work Ron.”

“Harry,” Ron whispered. “Did he mean what I think he meant?”

Harry sighed and pushed his paperwork away. “Do you really want to know?”

“No.” Ron shook his head. “But I think you need to talk about it.”

“I was a fool. I never thought I’d be the sort to get taken in by a nice meal and expensive wine.”

“How expensive?”

“You’re missing the point Ron. I practically let Malfoy buy me. I feel like a bloody slag.”

“Don’t tell me you shagged ‘im.”

“No. But . . . I can’t even say it.”

“If you don’t, my imagination will run wild,” Ron said.

Harry groaned. “Fine. I let him wank me.”

“Blimey Harry. It’s Malfoy.”

“Don’t you think I realize that?” Harry sighed again. He was still conflicted. If Draco hadn’t confessed what he’d done, Harry might be thinking about Draco in a very different way. Even with that knowledge, Harry couldn’t help mull over the previous evening’s events. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he was attracted to Malfoy. 

He didn’t want to be. But he was. Very much.

Just sitting there thinking about the way Draco’s fingers curled around his cock made him rise beneath his robes.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Ron asked.

“Nothing.”

For the remainder of the day, Harry vacillated between loathing Draco and lusting after him. He chalked up the lust to his lack of intimate contact the past six months or so. He never did make his way to chat up the bloke in DME. 

At the end of the day, Harry stood up abruptly and announced to Ron that he would right back. With purpose, he walked down the hall to the alcove that housed the Education Department. The cute bloke glanced up, then down, then back up again. Harry smiled.

“Hello.”

The man’s eyelashes fluttered. “Hello.”

“I was wondering if you could help me out,” Harry said.

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s near supper time, but I’ve nobody to eat with tonight.”

“You want to eat with _me_?”

“That is, if you’re free.”

“Absolutely.” The man sat up a bit straighter.

“Good. Shall we meet in the Atrium?”

The man nodded.

Harry held out his hand. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Of course. Donal.” He took Harry’s hand. “I’ll be there.”

With a little more spring in his step, Harry went back to his office to tell Ron he was finally ready to try dating again. He decided to keep it casual by taking Donal to The Three Broomsticks, requesting a corner booth for privacy.

Harry ordered a couple of butter beers for them while they perused the menu. Though, Donal seemed to be much more interested in looking at Harry than the menu. Once they ordered, and it was just the two of them, Harry found himself once again in awkward silence on a date.

“So, tell me a little about yourself, Donal. How do you like working in Education?”

“It’s all right. There really isn’t much to do. It’s a very small department.”

“Oh. Have you been to Hogwarts lately?”

“At the beginning of this term. We go for inspection twice yearly.”

Donal’s answers weren’t exactly lengthy. He wasn’t asking Harry any questions, and Harry feared Donal would be like most of his former dates. The best thing Donal had going for him was that he appeared to be the literal opposite of Draco. Donal’s hair and eyes were both a deep brown. He smiled often, showing dimples in both cheeks. Unfortunately, he lacked Draco’s charm and wit. Still, Harry thought perhaps the evening wouldn’t be a total loss.

Toward the end of their supper, Harry was losing interest. He had ordered the same old food he always ordered out. The conversation was largely one-sided, as Harry did most of the talking. Sure, Donal answered Harry’s questions, but they were short without much detail. Donal wanted to hear about exciting events Harry and his friends had been through. The last thing Harry wanted to do on a date was relive the war. When he was out with Draco, they managed to find things of interest to both of them without mentioning the war once. Harry realized he’d spent the entire evening with Donal comparing him to Draco.

Omitting an offer of pudding, Harry paid the bill.

“Well, I suppose we ought to call it a night.”

“Oh, already?” Donal asked. “It isn’t that late.”

“We both have work in the morning.”

“Hm.”

The clock above the bar chimed seven o’clock.

“I’m sorry, Donal. I just don’t feel there’s any chemistry between us. You’re a perfectly nice bloke. But . . .”

Donal’s shoulders slumped. “I’m disappointed. But I can’t disagree. You’re perfectly nice as well. Actually, you’re a lot more modest than I thought you would be.”

“Uh, thanks?” Harry wondered if other wizards thought he was full of himself.

“Thank you for supper.” Donal held out his hand. “It was a lovely evening.”

Nodding, Harry said, “Thank you for joining me. Good night.”

After leaving the Three Broomsticks, Harry considered going out to a pub where he might not be recognized to pick up a one-off. Perhaps if it had been the weekend, he may have. Instead he apparated home and wanked during a long, hot shower. He just wished it wasn’t Draco’s hand he was imagining stroking him off.

⚯

“Oi, Harry, did you ever look in that bag of gifts from Maeve?” Ron asked.

“No. I forgot all about it.”

Harry looked around for the bag Malfoy left him. He found it under his desk and began to rummage through it. 

“Cashmere socks?” Harry lifted an eyebrow.

‘Those are nice.”

“Oh, they match the jumper she gave me.” 

Peeking in, Harry chose another item. 

“A Gryffindor scarf?” questioned Ron.

“And tie,” Harry said, as he pulled it out of the bag.

“Doesn’t she realize you’re not at Hogwarts anymore?”

Harry shrugged. “There’s also a book about Quidditch, an everlasting candle, a bottle of mulled cider and . . .”

“What? what is it?”

Grinning, Harry held up a miniature dart board. “Look, I can play with it at my desk. Maybe I’ll put Malfoy’s face over it.” He laughed.

“Kind of boring stuff she gave you,” Ron said. “At least the stuff Malfoy replaced it with gave us all a good laugh.”

Harry glared. “Speaking of which, I’m going to bag all of that up and return it to him. In front of his coworkers. See how much _he_ likes it.”

So Harry did just that. He found Draco at his desk looking at some sort of blue print design. He tossed the bag on top of it.

Angry at first, Draco snorted. “Do you mind?” Then he looked up. “Oh. Harry. What’s all this then?”

“Returning your _gifts_.” 

“You can keep them if you’d like. They were gifts, after all.” 

“I don’t bloody want them.” Harry leaned forward, and upended the bag, spilling the contents over Draco’s desk for all to see. He was disappointed to see that Draco didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed. “I don’t even know what good half of them are for.”

“Well, the cock ring–

“I’m not asking for an explanation,” Harry sputtered. How was it he was the one who was embarrassed? Malfoy should have been the one. “You keep them, if you find them so necessary.”

“But I don’t need them.” The corner of Draco’s mouth curled up. “I already have these. And more.”

Harry stood dumbfounded. How could Draco so casually talk about his depraved sex life in front of other wizards in the office?

Draco leaned forward on his elbows. “I’d be happy to demonstrate for you.”

Flushed and pissed off that his attempt to humiliate Malfoy had completely backfired, Harry stomped his way back to his own department. He barely got any work done, turning the whole experience over in his mind, trying to figure out how Malfoy got the best of him–again.

Down at the canteen, Hermione went on and on about different venues for holding her wedding. She mentally picked out flowers and bridesmaid dresses.

“Ginny will of course be my maid of honor. And Harry, the best man.”

“Don’t I get to pick my best man?” Ron asked.

“Yes, but who else would you choose?”

“I do have four brothers.”

“Exactly. How could you choose one without slighting the other?” Hermione asked.

“Right.” Ron’s brow furrowed. “But you didn’t even let me ask Harry myself. Harry?”

“Harry?” repeated Hermione.

“What?” Harry looked into their expectant faces. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

“What’s got your attention?” she asked.

“Malfoy,” grumbled Harry. “Every time I look over, he’s staring at me. The git. Probably trying to concoct another scheme to humiliate me.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “It seems to me that the only reason you keep catching him looking at you, is because you keep looking at him.”

“Shut up.”

“Ron.” She elbowed her fiancé in the ribs.

“She’s sort of right, Harry.”

“Great, now you two are against me.”

“We’re not against you, mate. But you should ignore him. It’s probably attention he wants.”

“That’s not all,” Harry mumbled. “I’m finished. I’m going back to the office.”

Harry tossed his tray and made his way to the lifts. Before he could pull the gate across, Draco appeared there, quickly stepping in.

“Get out Malfoy.”

“It’s a public lift,” Draco said, then pulled the gate closed himself.

“This one doesn’t even go to your level.”

“I know.” Draco paused and pushed a button to stop the lift. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you earlier.”

“You keep saying that. And yet, you keep doing it,” Harry pointed out.

“I know. I can’t seem to help myself. You’re great fun to tease.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying. Believe me.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

“Obviously, I’ve cocked things up,” Draco began. “The things you did for me during Christmas really touched me. And what I did to you was bollocks. I admit that. Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already tried that.”

“But now you know what I did and I have nothing else to hide. When you came to my office with the intent of shaming me in front of my office mates, I had to defend myself the only way I could, by deflecting the attention from me and putting it on you. I apologize.”

“You can’t just say you’re sorry, then turn around and do it again. That’s not how apologies work.”

“Then tell me, how do they work?”

“You apologize sincerely, then move on. You _show_ that you’re sorry by not repeating the behavior.”

“All right. May I try again?” When Harry didn’t respond, Draco whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

Then he leaned forward and kissed Harry.

Harry silently cursed his body for responding to him. He let his eyes drift shut and reveled in the feel of Draco’s lips against his. Draco’s hands grabbed Harry’s hips and pulled them into his own. Only the moan from Harry’s own throat brought him out of the dizziness he was spiraling into.

Leaning back, Draco smiled. “You have to admit, Potter, you may not like me much, but your body certainly does.” He whispered in Harry’s ear. “We could be amazing together.”

Staring into those stormy grey eyes, Harry nearly gave in right there in the lift.

Instead, he said, “I have to get back to work.”

Without protest, Draco pushed another button to restart the lift. When Harry’s level came up, he didn’t try to stop him from leaving.

Harry walked out, heading for his office, and resisting the urge to turn around and look at Malfoy. He didn’t rust himself not to give the man the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under Harry’s skin.

⚯

All day, Saturday and Sunday, Harry had too much time to think about Draco’s words. Unfortunately, he was right that Harry’s body responded to his. And though Harry tried to write that off as animal instinct, that was only half of it. He could have easily shagged Donal after their date. He was certain the young man would have been willing. But neither Harry’s body, nor his mind were interested.

“Fucking Malfoy.” Harry cursed himself as much as Malfoy.

Busying himself with household chores, Harry’s mind kept wandering to their not-date. But it had been the best supper out with a man he’d had in quite a while. Malfoy never asked Harry to regale him with war stories. He never told Harry he was a hero.

Harry laughed to himself. Malfoy would never consider Harry a hero. Perhaps when he got him out of the Room of Requirement. In which case, Harry actually was his personal hero. 

Malfoy never put Harry up on a pedestal. Rather the opposite, he took delight in making Harry feel uncomfortable. But he also seemed to back off before he took it too far. Most men and women treated Harry more as a legend than a man.

He didn’t want to be a legend. He wished everyone would treat him the way Ron and Hermione treated him. The way the Weasleys treated him. And if he was being honest, even the way Malfoy treated him.

⚯

Harry found himself once again, dateless on a holiday. He joined Ron, Hermione, George and Angelina at Ron’s flat for New Year’s Eve. Ginny and her new boyfriend showed up as well. Though he and Ginny had patched things up between them, it was still a bit awkward for Harry. He broke up with her, yet she was the one moving forward and happy.

“You’re here alone?” she asked him when she found him in the kitchen.

“Yeah. Again.”

“Ron told me you haven’t been being particularly social lately.”

“I went on a couple of dates,” he said. “They just didn’t work out. But enough about me. How are you and . . .”

“Ewan.”

“Ah, Ewan. How are you and Ewan getting on?”

“He’s Muggle born. So you can imagine Dad is always bending his ear about one Muggle thing or another. But Ewan’s been exceedingly patient about it.”

“Does he treat you as well as it appears he does?”

Ginny cocked her head.

Harry smiled. “He looks at you as though you hung the moon. I hope it’s genuine.”

She nodded. “He’s very sweet.”

“Good. You deserve it. I’m sorry I couldn’t–”

“Stop.” She put a finger up to his mouth. “It’s not your fault. I think we were both in a little bit of denial.”

Harry chuckled. “I was in a _lot_ of denial. But thank you.”

“I think it’s getting on midnight,” she said. “We should get some champagne and join the others.”

At the stroke of midnight, as the others were kissing their respective partners, Harry sipped his champagne. He couldn’t help wondering who was kissing Draco.

“Happy New Year, mate.” Ron had quite a bit to drink and squeezed Harry tightly before giving him a peck on the cheek. “It’s gonna be the best year yet.”


	7. Be Careful, That One's Hot

The first day back at work in the new year, Harry approached his desk to find a plate of crumpets with butter and honey, alongside a cup of hot tea. He looked around for Ron, assuming he had gotten breakfast for the pair of them. Not finding him, Harry sat down and waved a wand over the meal to spell for poisons or dark magic. He found no magic at all, in fact.

Just then, Ron walked in. “Oi, you couldn’t have gotten me some too?”

“I didn’t get this. It was here. Whoever left it must have done it only moments before I arrived. It’s still warm.”

“Probably a warming spell.”

Harry shook his head. “No. There’s no magic in it at all.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Muggle food? Who would have done that? Maybe Hermione. Or maybe Maeve is still trying to suck up.”

“Maybe.” Harry eyed the golden brown crumpets. There wasn’t anything sinister about them. And it would be a shame to let them go to waste. So he poured a bit of honey over them and began eating.

“Oi, what’s this?” Ron bent over and picked up a small folded parchment. “H. Enjoy. D.”

Harry stopped mid-chew. “What?”

“D. Do you think it stands for Donal?” Ron asked. “Isn’t that the name of the one you went to supper with last week?”

“Yeah.” Harry frowned. “But why would he send me breakfast?”

Ron shrugged a shoulder. “Guess he’s returning the favor from supper.”

“Could be.” Harry wasn’t convinced.

“You could always go and ask him,” suggested Ron.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think so. I sort of ended the date a bit early. There wasn’t any chemistry between us. I would expect he might be a bit miffed.”

“Are they good?’ Ron asked.

“Yeah, they’re very tasty.”

“Then give some here.”

⚯

Down at the canteen, Harry could practically feel Draco’s eyes on him. He resisted looking back as long as he could. When at last he did, his resolve began to break. As angry as he wanted to be with Draco, he couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for the man. Draco had tried over and over to apologize, taking all of Harry’s temperament in stride. He was persistent, Harry had to give him that.

Draco smiled, but there was a subtle sadness to it. Perhaps his determination was beginning to wane.

“Won’t you, Harry?”

“Huh?”

“Give it up, Hermione. He’s watching Malfoy again,” Ron said.

Harry’s first instinct was to tell Ron to fuck himself, but his best friend was right. “Sorry. Did you say something Hermione?”

“We were talking about wedding suits. You’ll help Ron with that, won’t you?”

“How would I know what to pick?”

She laughed. “I don’t expect you to know. I only want you to go with Ron to make sure he listens to the shopkeeper's suggestions. Besides, you have excellent taste in dress robes.”

“Oh, sure.” Harry’s head involuntarily turned in Draco’s direction again, but he was gone.

Ron sighed heavily. “Mate, why don’t you just go out with him?”

“What? I don’t want to go out with him,” Harry protested.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance.

Standing to gather his tray, Ron said, “You can keep telling us that. Or you can be honest with yourself. You know, this reminds me of when we were in school. You’d watch Malfoy all the time, because you said he was up to no good.”

“Because he _was_ up to no good.”

Ron leaned over. “And what’s your excuse now?”

Harry simply stared back up at him.

“Ron, Harry needs to figure this out for himself,” said Hermione. She tugged at his arm.

With his friends leaving, Harry cradled his head. “How am I supposed to figure this out for myself?”

“All right, Harry?” a voice asked.

He looked up to find Donal with a concerned look on his face.

“Oh, hi Donal. How are you?”

“Hell of a sight better than you, I’d wager. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Harry replied, but he didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

“I know our date didn’t go well, but you look like you could use a friend.”

“Yeah. I think I’ve pissed off the few friends I have.”

Donal took a seat. “What happened?”

“Uh . . .” Harry was reluctant to discuss his love life woes with a man he’d basically turned down. “You don’t want to hear about my problems.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear.”

Pursing his lips, Harry decided that perhaps the opinion of an objective third party could help. He took a deep breath, then said out loud the things he had a difficult time admitting in his own head.

“Okay. There’s a man I’m very much attracted to.”

“And he’s not attracted to you? Is he mental?”

“No. He is. In fact, he’s been pursuing me rather boldly.”

“I don’t see the problem. What am I missing?”

“We have a tempestuous past.”

“I’m guessing not in a good way.”

Harry shook his head. “We basically hated each other from the moment we met; trading insults, throwing curses and trying to get the other in trouble. Although, that last one was more his doing than mine.”

“Sounds . . . very passionate.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. Passionate was never a word he used to describe his past with Draco. It was, however, the way he felt the night they went to Draco’s flat.

“I can understand why you felt we had no spark if you already have that, and more, with someone else,” Donal continued. “Do you believe he’s sincere?”

“Yes, I do. But I’m not sure how he got past the memories of all the hateful things we said and did.”

Donal smiled. “There’s a thin line between love and hate. Or so I’ve heard. And obviously, he’s willing to overlook it. Maybe you should concentrate on what you like about him now.”

A smile grew on Harry lips. “He can be quite charming. And his sense of humor is a bit devilish. Unfortunately, I end up the butt of most jokes. He says I’m great fun to tease.”

“Ah, and you don’t like that.”

“On the contrary. Most wizards are too worried about offending me. Or they’re idolizing me.” Harry laughed. “He doesn’t concern himself with either of those things. It’s refreshing.”

Donal rested his chin on his hand. “So, you’re attracted to this man physically and emotionally. Plus, you share a history. And you believe he’s sincere in his pursuit. I’m still not sure I see the problem.”

“Did I mention my friends hate him?”

“That could be a problem. Have you talked to them?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious by the tone of Ron’s voice. He told me I was lying to myself when I said I wasn’t interested in Draco.”

Donal sat up straighter. “Draco? Draco Malfoy is the man pursuing you? So that’s why he’s been skulking about the department.”

“Skulking?”

“Well, perhaps not skulking. But he’s a Death Eater, yeah?”

“No. Not anymore. He’s trying to be a productive member of society,” Harry defended. “He’s renounced the Death Eaters. Shacklebolt wouldn’t have hired him if he hadn’t be completely vetted.”

Donal let out a chuckle. “All right, all right. Harry, I think it’s pretty obvious how you feel about this bloke. And if your friends are any sort of good friends, they’ll support you.”

“You’re right.” Harry stood to clear his lunch mess. “Oh, by the way, you didn’t leave something on my desk this morning, did you?”

“No. Such as what?”

“It’s not important. Thank you for your help, Donal.”

“My pleasure.”

Harry turned to leave, then turned back 'round. "I mean that sincerely. I'd like to be able to count you among my friends. And if I can return the favour . . ."

"I'll be sure to call on you." Donal nodded.

Harry left the canteen convinced that Draco was the one to leave him breakfast, in another attempt to get into Harry’s good books. It was working. He had always prided himself on the fact that he couldn’t be swayed by bribery. He wished Draco would give him time and space to think. When pushed, Harry’s instinct was to push back.

By the time he got back to his office, Ron was elbow deep in paperwork.

“Where have you been? I had to finish the Thistlebeck file myself.”

“Sorry. I needed a little time to think.”

“You’re letting this whole thing with Malfoy distract you. Just fucking decide what to do and do it.”

“Why the fuck are you so miffed? What about all that bullshit you and Hermione say about only wanting me to be happy. You want me to be happy on _your_ terms.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t want me to choose Draco because you still hate him.”

Ron leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. His expression darkened.

“I have a wedding to plan, a business proposal to consider, and a sister who’s just getting back to her old self after having her heart broken because you couldn’t be honest with yourself. You want to waste your time? Fine. But you wasted Ginny’s time too.”

“What? How is this about _Ginny_? She’s doing fine.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to see her crying, wondering why she wasn’t enough for you.”

“I’m gay. She knows it has nothing to do with her.”

“She knows that _now_. But you waited months to finally explain it to her, because you were too afraid to come out. You really hurt her. Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you did. And now you’re stringing Malfoy along. I’m not Malfoy’s biggest fan, by any stretch of the imagination. But even he deserves your honesty.” Ron relaxed a bit. “You’re still trying to do what you think everyone expects of you. It doesn’t matter how I feel about Malfoy. It matters how _you_ feel about him.”

Whether it was good timing or bad, Harry couldn’t decide, Malfoy showed up at their door. He must have picked up on the tension in the room.

“I’ll come back another time.”

“Wait,” Harry called out. “I’ll come with you.”

He looked at Ron, then left the room with Draco.

“He’s going to kill me. I haven’t done much work today,” he told Draco once they’d stopped in an alcove down the hall.

“Then why did you come with me?”

“To find out what you wanted.”

Draco smiled. “You _know_ what I want.”

“I’m serious.”

“Me too.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned to walk away.

“Don’t go. I only wanted to see if you enjoyed the breakfast I left.”

“So, it _was_ you.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco asked, “Who else would it have been?”

“It doesn’t matter. Why did you do it?”

“For the same reason most people do nice things for each other.”

"But, why Muggle food?”

"Oh, I thought you might like . . ." Draco pursed his lips.

"I do," Harry was quick to say. "I appreciate that you went out of your way. It was very nice.”

“There’s another nice thing I’d like to do for you.” Draco leaned forward.

Harry involuntarily tilted his head toward Draco. They had already been standing relatively close. And Harry was certain Draco was planning to kiss him. He even wanted him to. Instead, Draco leaned back.

“Let me take you to supper again.”

“What? I thought we already talked about that. You can’t make up for poor actions with supper.”

“Not to make up for anything. Not to apologize. Because I want to take you out on a proper date.”

Part of Harry wanted to say yes. Part of him wanted to be a stubborn arse.

Draco continued. “If things don’t go the way you’d like, I won’t bother you again. I won’t tease you or try to humiliate you in retaliation. I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

“I really should get some work done,” Harry said.

“Will you at least think about it?”

“I’ll think about it if you stop doing things like leaving me breakfast.”

“Or dildos?”

“Especially dildos,” Harry laughed.

Draco clicked his heels, turned, and walked away.

As usual, Harry was left with conflicting feelings.

“So what happened?” Ron asked him when he got back to the office.

Harry shrugged. “He was the one who left the crumpets. He wanted to know if I enjoyed them.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah,” Harry lied. 

⚯

For the remainder of the week, Draco didn’t leave any gifts on Harry’s desk. Neither did he try to pressure him into going out again. They traded glances in the canteen, while Ron shook his head, and Hermione tried not to notice. Actually, they were more like lingering gazes, but Harry wasn’t going to admit that.

On Friday, during lunch, Ron appeared to have had enough.

“You’re doing it again.”

Harry turned to look at him.

“Leave it alone, Ron,” Hermione said.

“No. I’ve held my tongue long enough.”

“Go ahead,” Harry said. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

Ron put his fork down. “Shit or get off the pot already. What are you afraid of?”

Harry opened his mouth to ask Ron to clarify, but he didn’t have a chance. Ron continued his tirade.

“I’ll tell you what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid of disappointing. You think you’ll disappoint Hermione and me, or your multitude of admirers. You think you’ll tarnish the memory of Remus and Tonks, and F–Fred,” his voice briefly caught in his throat, “and all the other people killed by Death Eaters by not continuing to play the hero.”

Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. “Ron, you’re being too harsh.”

Ignoring her, Ron pushed through. “But you’re only disappointing yourself.” He glanced across the room. “And probably him. All those people we lost in the war–your friends–would want you to be happy. Whatever that is. You didn’t fight, and win, only so everybody _else_ could be happy.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Then do what you want to do. The only way you’ll disappoint me, and I think I can speak for Hermione as well, is if you let life pass you by instead of going after what you want. Either go after Malfoy, or cut him loose. But do it because it’s what _you_ want.”

Hermione looked between the men. Instead of getting up resolutely in pursuit of Draco, Harry sat with his brow furrowed, pensive.

“Come on, Ron. Let’s give Harry some space.” They picked up their trays and left. 

Harry sat a moment, until movement across the canteen caught his eye. He turned his head in time to see Draco walking out. Quickly tossing his tray, Harry followed him to the lifts.

After pushing the button, Draco turned to pull the gate across. He appeared visibly surprised to see Harry there.

“This lift doesn’t even go to your level,” he smirked.

“Not that same restaurant,” Harry said.

“Sorry?”

“I don’t want to go to that same restaurant.”

Draco drew in a breath. Harry was finally accepting his invitation. “Wherever you want.”

Harry thought a moment. He might prefer a Muggle establishment. The idea of anonymity was appealing. If he and Draco were actually going to give it a go, he didn’t want nosy witches or wizards ogling them.

“What if I chose a Muggle restaurant?”

The twitch of Draco’s nose was subtle. “If that’s what you prefer.”

“It is. It’s my turn to get you to try something new.”

Harry didn’t want to wear transfigured clothing again, so he proposed they each went back to their respective flats at the end of the day to change, then meet back up outside the Ministry. 

The restaurant Harry chose was an upscale pub with a relaxed atmosphere, but not rowdy like some of the places Harry frequented. Though he told Draco it was dress casual, the man showed up in a jacket, but without a tie. Harry wore a finely knit blue jumper and black jeans.

When they walked in, a pert hostess asked how many in their party. Harry said something in her ear, and she smiled. She then led them to a back corner of the restaurant away from the kitchen entrance.

“How did we get a table without a booking?” asked Draco.

“Casual dining doesn’t usually require one.”

“Oh. And what did you say to her that made her smile?”

“I told her this was our first official date and we wanted a quiet, candle lit table for two.”

There was that killer smile again. “But Harry, all the table have candles, and most of them are two tops.”

“Yes, but we got the corner booth.”

Draco looked around. It was relatively early for a Friday night and there were few people in the dining area.

“Normally, one wants a table in the middle in order to be seen spending loads of money at a fine restaurant. However, I can definitely see the appeal of this.”

A young girl with several facial piercings approached. “Good evening luvs. Can I get a drink order?” She handed them each a menu.

“May I?” Harry asked Draco. “Two Black and Tans please.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” She winked.

“What is a Back and Tan?”

“It’s Guinness with bitter,” Harry replied. “The way they pour them keeps the colors separate. You drink beer, don’t you?”

“Occasionally.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. Draco had remembered to ask Harry if he drank wine before he ordered it. He was kicking himself for not asking first.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you order your own food. Everything here is top notch. Although, I haven’t actually tried _everything_. But what I have eaten was fantastic.”

“You don’t have to sell it so hard, Harry. It isn’t about the food. It’s about the company.”

Harry tried to remember that. But he also wanted Draco to be pleased with Harry’s choice. Once ordering was out of the way, they could concentrate on conversation, which was difficult with the way the candle light made Draco’s eyes sparkle. It took him a second to realize he was staring.

“Don’t look away now,” Draco said. “I haven’t gotten much opportunity to really study those famous eyes.”

Harry looked back at him.

“They say you’ve got your mother’s eyes. I don’t know much about her, but she must have been extraordinarily beautiful.”

Harry could feel himself blush at the implication. “She was. But overall, I favour my father.”

“Yes, James Potter.”

Harry’s brows raised. “You know my father’s name?”

“I’ve read some biographies of your life.”

“Oh.” Harry’s shoulders slumped.

“They say you’re a legend, practically a god. Nearly as famous as Godric Gryffindor himself. You know, I actually got a chocolate frog card of you once.”

“Really.” Harry took a sip of his Black and Tan.

“They’ve got it all wrong, though.”

“ _Have_ they?” Harry was beginning to think this date would end the same as so many before.

“They’ve completely missed how perfectly _imperfect_ you are.”

“Sorry?”

“It wasn’t meant to be an insult,” Draco clarified. 

“If I’m so imperfect, then why did you want to go out with me?”

Draco took a sip of his Guinness, and paused in thought.

“Because you’re humble, when you have every right to be arrogant. You’re kind, when you have every right to shun me. And because, even though you were brave enough to save the wizarding world from evil, you trembled when I kissed you. You are the most courageous wizard, yet somehow, naïve and vulnerable. You have a scar on your forehead and permanently unruly hair, and still, you must be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. You are perfectly imperfect.”

Harry’s breath hitched. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull Draco into his arms and snog him senseless.

“Here you go luvs.” The server placed their plates in front of them. “Be careful, that one’s hot,” she said to Harry.

“Yes, he is,” he answered absently.

The server laughed. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you. But you seem to have everything you need.” She winked.

He smacked his own forehead.

“Well, I suppose I don’t need to ask why you agreed to go out with me,” Draco smirked.

“You think it’s only about the way you look? After all the things you just said about me?”

Draco chuckled. “No, I don’t. But frankly, I’m not certain why you agreed to spend time with me. I was intolerable when I was young and privileged.”

“Yeah, you were.” Harry tried to laugh it off. He didn’t want to talk about how they used to behave towards each other. “But you’ve changed. And so have I, I suppose. Because I find your wit charming, when it’s not directed at me.”

“And when it is?”

“I like the attention.” Harry looked down at his meal. Chicken Tikka Masala was one of Harry’s favorites. But he was beginning to hunger for something else. However, he needed to remain composed.

“Hm, this sirloin is top notch, as you put it,” Draco said. He continued to eat as though Harry hadn’t called him charming or said he liked Draco’s attention.

While Draco was occupied by his meal, Harry took the opportunity to observe him. He’d never taken notice of the powder-light eyelashes before. Or the sculpted cheekbones.The lips, he was well aware of. Harry watched Draco bring a forkful to his mouth and close his lips around the utensil. Draco pulled the fork slowly, as though taunting Harry. Then the lips smirked.

Draco was watching him as well. “You haven’t tried yours.”

“Oh. Right.”

Harry busied himself with his own meal, resisting the temptation to gaze at Draco’s lips. He did watch his hands. The same hands that stroked him off after their last supper. They were well cared for–soft, but not feminine. His fingers were long and thin, and Harry wondered if he knew how to play piano. A lot of wealthy families seemed to have pianos. But Harry knew he was only trying to distract himself from thinking about exactly how far up his arse Draco’s fingers could fit.

“It must be quite good,” Draco commented. “Judging by the moan.”

“Fuck.” Had Harry really moaned out loud daydreaming about Draco fingering him?

“What I wouldn’t give to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a date I felt was going well. And I’m probably making a balls-up of it.”

“Not at all. But you know, you never really answered my question.”

Harry didn’t recall hearing Draco ask him anything. How rude Harry must have appeared.

He sighed. “I’m so sorry. I am not normally so inattentive.”

“Am I boring you?”

“No. You’re distracting me.”

“ _I’m_ distracting you from _me_?” Draco tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.

When Draco put it like that, it sounded ridiculous, no matter how true it may have been.

“I can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen when we’re finished here,” Harry admitted. “I can’t even remember the last time I felt so attracted to another man.”

Draco stared, his mouth slightly agape at Harry’s confession.

“Then perhaps we ought to get the bill.”

They had the server bag the rest of their meals. Draco tried to pay, but, as a Muggle pub, they didn’t accept galleons. Not-so-secretly pleased that he was able to reciprocate for their previousmeal, Harry happily paid the bill and tipped their server generously.

This time around, Harry was prepared to be apparated to Draco’s flat. The first time, Harry hadn’t taken notice of much, other than Draco himself. Curious, he looked around while Draco took their jackets to hang in a closet.

Generally speaking, the flat was clean. There were a few dirty dishes on the counter, the initialed teacup Harry gave him among them. When he turned, he saw the star chart hanging on the wall near Draco’s bed.

Harry felt an embrace from behind. Draco lightly kissed the back of his neck in several places and caressed his chest.

“So what was it, exactly, you were imagining happening after supper?”

Harry turned in his arms. “This is a good start.”

As Harry leaned forward for a kiss, Draco met him halfway, his tongue swiping Harry’s lips. Harry melted into him, languidly kissing the lips he’s been watching all evening. His fingers wove through Draco’s fine hair. It was as soft as Harry imagined it to be. He felt Draco’s hands palm his arse and moaned.

“Draco,” Harry whispered. “I want your hands on me.”

“Mm. Me too.”

Wasting no time, Harry pulled his jumper over his head, then quickly began to unbutton Draco’s shirt.Meanwhile, Draco worked on ridding them of their trousers.

Soon, they stood surrounded by clothing with nothing to hide behind. Harry looked down at Draco’s cock and licked his lips. It had been a while since he had an opportunity to get such a lovely cock in his mouth. Taking the initiative, Harry gently pushed Draco to the bed and on his back. He kissed a trail down his body, inhaling Draco’s intoxicating scent. Unable to hold back any longer, Harry enveloped Draco’s cock all at once, sucking and running his tongue over every ridge and cranny.

Over and over, Harry pulled up then slid back down. Draco’s moans spurred him on until he was moving at a pace quick enough to bring Draco off.

“Mm. Wait,” Draco ground out.

Harry popped off. “Are you close?”

“Too close. I need a moment. Let me return the favour.”

Harry gladly lay down, his cock pointed tall and proud waiting eagerly for Draco’s mouth.

“Ah, fuck. I knew your lips would be perfect.”

Closing his eyes, Harry reveled in the hot wetness surrounding him. It was so much better than wanking, even with oil. He felt Draco’s fingers massaging his bollocks. Immediately, he recalled watching those fingers at the restaurant, and what he wanted them to do to him.

He let his legs fall open, hoping Draco would take the hint. He vaguely heard a small chuckle, but was rewarded with a gentle nudge against his hole.

“Do it,” Harry begged. “Please.”

For a moment, Draco’s finger and mouth were gone, and there were sounds Harry couldn’t quite identify. Draco whispered something, and suddenly Harry felt a great warming sensation inside him. It was gone but for a few seconds before Draco slid a slick finger into Harry’s arse.

“Fuck.” Harry arched his back.

“Relax.” Draco’s voice was calming, while his free hand tenderly rubbed Harry’s belly.

Once Harry had gotten used to the feeling and he loosened up, Draco added another finger. Harry moaned as he was prodded in just the right place. When Draco’s mouth descended on his cock once again, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long. He opened his eyes to find Draco gazing up at him, full of lust. 

Gasping, Harry cried out, “Shit. I’m cumming.”

It hit him so quickly, that was all the warning he gave. He threw his head back basked in the feeling. As his cock spewed out each load, Draco swallowed it. Soon Harry was nothing more than a satiated bag of bones.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. “That was fucking brilliant.” He realized Draco was still worked up and in need of release. “Come up here.”

Draco complied, rubbing his cock along Harry’s body as he did. He kissed Harry fervently while humping his hip.

Harry broke the kiss. “Come up all the way. Fuck my mouth.”

Groaning, Draco straddled Harry and slipped his cock into the waiting mouth. He held onto the headboard, powering his hips forward and backward. 

“Oh, Harry, I can’t last.”

All Harry could do was hum in response, which only drove Draco closer to orgasm.

“I’m going to cum soon. Should I move?”

Harry grabbed his hips, holding him in place. He was as keen on tasting Draco as Draco had been for him.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Draco stilled and let out a long moan. 

With heavy lids and small smile on his face, Draco climbed off and snuggled in next to Harry, leisurely drawing circles on Harry’s chest. He sighed, then snuggled closer.

“That was inspired,” he said. “I never imagined you and I would be in this position when I was younger. Did you?”

“No.”

Draco leaned back. “You regretting it already?”

“No. But . . .why do you keep bringing up our past?”

“We can’t sweep it under the rug. The only way to move past it is to acknowledge it.”

“But I don’t want to think about how we used to treat each other. I don’t really think of you as that person anymore.”

Draco leaned up on an elbow. “Good. I don’t think I am that person anymore. Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

Harry chuckled. “There must be loads about me you don’t know.”

“Then it’s an easy task.”

“Um, well, I didn’t really come to terms with being gay until after I had been dating Ginny for a year, after the war was over.”

“Did you not know? Or were you trying to hide it?”

“I thought I was simply pants at relationships. I tried dating other girls too, but it never really worked out. To be honest, I was far too busy to even worry about it. What about you?”

“I’ve known I was different since I was young. I used Pansy as a cover for a while, but she thought she could turn me if she was persistent enough. So I came out, and she had no choice but to let it go.” He resumed drawing circles on Harry’s chest. “Tell me something else.”

Gazing up at the ceiling, Harry said, “I was scared. During the war. I’ve been painted as some unrelenting hero, but I was scared. Terrified actually.”

“Me too.”

Harry turned to look at him. “I can’t imagine. I was trying to hide from Voldemort, but you had him in your home. You had nowhere to hide. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Draco thought a moment. His life seemed unremarkable compared to Harry’s.

“Aunt Bellatrix tortured me after I failed to identify you at the Manor.”

Harry gasped.

“It’s all right,” Draco told him. “I’m glad I didn’t help them. It was the only way I could rebel.”

“You risked an awful lot.”

“I was lucky, though. My mother stopped her before she could do any permanent damage. Now tell me something a bit less morbid. Maybe something that doesn’t have to do with the war at all.”

“I had possession of the Deathly Hallows. Not all at the same time, but still.”

Draco laughed. “Tell me something real.”

“They _are_ real. As a matter of fact, I still have the cloak. I used the Elder Wand to repair my wand after it broke. I dropped the stone somewhere in the wood.”

“You’re taking the piss.” Draco’s eyes closed and he draped a leg over Harry’s.

“No, I swear.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard about this then?”

“Only Ron and Hermione know. Shacklebolt knows about the wand. I had to turn it over to the Ministry.”

“You’re serious?” Draco’s eyes briefly opened.

Harry nodded, then yawned. “Sorry. I’m knackered.”

Draco couldn’t help yawning himself. “Tell me something else.” He yawned again.

“Mm, I can’t think.” Harry’s eyes began to drift closed. “Besides, it’s your turn to tell me something about you.”

Draco was quiet for a while, and Harry thought he may have fallen asleep. Harry himself was on the verge of nodding off when Draco finally spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

_Me too_


	8. Me Too

The sun on Harry's face was warm and bright. He was reluctant to open his eyes, for fear of blinding. So he lay a while before getting out of bed.

As he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized he wasn’t in his own room. The sheets were much softer than his own. The soft ticking of a clock, and even the scent in the air were foreign to him.

He was in Draco’s bed. The cold feet resting against his own were a dead giveaway. Harry opened his eyes, shielding them immediately. It was definitely Draco’s flat. He could see the star chart hanging on the wall.

Movement behind him caught his attention. Draco yawned. The sheets shifted and an arm snaked around Harry’s chest.

“Morning,” Draco mumbled.

Harry’s body stiffened. He’d never been in a position to wake up in another man’s bed. The few times he had intercourse with Ginny, he didn’t linger overnight. He was always left feeling . . . wrong. 

At the moment, despite the awkwardness of his inexperience, Harry felt right.

“Morning,” he said nervously. “I didn’t mean to stay. I hope that’s all right.”

Draco chuckled. “I’ve got you right where I want you. Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

He spooned Harry closely, pressing his morning wood into Harry’s back.

“I don’t know. Is it too soon?”

“Do you have some sort of timetable I’m not aware of?” Draco asked. “I thought we were doing what came naturally.” He kissed the back of Harry’s neck, then threw off the sheet. 

Harry was confused when Draco got out of bed. He thought for certain Draco was going to press for sex. Harry grew hard just thinking about it.

“I’ve got to piss,” Draco said, walking to the loo. “Do you have plans? We could spend the day.” He shut the door behind him leaving Harry to contemplate the offer.

Spend the day doing what? It didn’t sound as though he had sex in mind. It sounded more domestic than that. This was getting serious.

Draco emerged, nude but no longer hard. “Are you planning on staying in bed all day?”

“What? Oh, sorry.” Harry sat up.

“I’m only kidding. I think staying in bed all day is a brilliant idea.” Draco winked.

“All day?”

Laughing, Draco asked, “What’s wrong, Potter? You act like you’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

“Boyfriend? Well, I was with Ginny for a long time. And I’ve dated a few men. Or rather, I’ve gone on dates. We’d go out, then fool around a bit. But I wouldn’t have called any of them boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Have you?”

“A few,” Draco confessed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I thought when you said . . .”

“I should probably get going,” Harry said. “Ron is expecting me at ten. I need to shower and eat.”

“Of course.”

Draco looked like he had more to say. But Harry really did have to meet Ron. Even though they’d been engaged less than two weeks, Hermione was pushing Ron to look at wedding clothes. And Harry had promised her he wouldn’t let Ron go alone.

⚯

“What do you think of this one?” Ron asked.

“I think it looks exactly like the previous five you pointed out.”

“Right, then it’s not just me?” Ron yawned.

“Am I boring you or is shopping that exhausting for you?” Harry chuckled.

“We were up late again last night. I’m telling you Harry, there’s something about an engagement ring that makes a woman randy. She’s so excited about planning a wedding and finding a flat together. But she won’t move in with me until we’re married, so we’re trying to make it happen this summer. Mum wants it at the Burrow, like Bill and Fleur.”

“So, Hermione doesn’t ever stay at your flat?”

“Sure, she does. She just won’t move in with me.”

“Oh. When did she start doing that?” Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”

“No reason.”

They continued rifling through black suit after black suit, neither of them seeing anything particularly distinguishing about them.

“How long was it before she called you her boyfriend?” Harry attempted to be nonchalant.

“I don’t remember,” Ron answered. “But I think I called her my girlfriend after that first kiss. Why do you want to know all this?”

Harry shrugged. “I, um, took your advice.”

“What advice was that?”

“I went out with Draco last night.”

“Oh? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel.”

“I already told you, mate. It’s about how _you_ feel.” Ron paused. “So, I take it things went well if you’re talking about boyfriends and staying over.”

“He sort of referred to himself as my boyfriend this morning.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “This morning?”

“Oh, yeah, I kind of accidentally stayed over his flat.” Harry blushed.

Ron snickered. “You’re a grown man. You don’t have to be embarrassed about that. Of course, Mum doesn’t see it that way. One time Hermione and I fell asleep together in the sitting room and Mum had a fit.”

Harry absently pushed a few more suits along the rack. 

“What did you say when he called himself your boyfriend?” Ron asked.

“Nothing. I left so I could get ready to meet you.”

Ron palmed his face. “Harry.”

“I didn’t know _what_ to say. We’ve only had one real date.”

“Do you want to see other men?”

“No.”

“Do you want _him_ to see other men?”

“No,” Harry said, with more conviction. “You must think I’m a fucking idiot. Even Draco, a former Death Eater, is less socially awkward than me.”

Laughing, Ron said, “You’re not _that_ socially awkward. But why are you still hesitating? I thought you wanted what Hermione and I have.”

“I do. But, you think I can have that with Draco? We hated each other.”

“You think there weren’t times Hermione hated me? You and Malfoy don’t hate each other now.”

“True. But he can still be a prat. Quimby’s still calling me The Boy Who Lubed because of all the shit Draco sent me.”

Ron burst out laughing. “You have to admit, that was a brilliant prank. No one else would have had the bollocks to do it to you. Except for me, of course. You’re always saying you don’t want someone who idolizes you. You’ve met your match there.”

Harry frowned. “You’re encouraging me to go out with Draco?”

“Hermione and I want you to be happy. Whatever makes you happy. Or _whoever_.”

“Sorry about that crack,” Harry said. 

“So, why are you having doubts now? You’ve been staring a hole in him all week.”

“It’s moving too quickly. He wanted to spend the day together.”

“Harry, why didn’t you tell me? We didn’t have to do this today.” Ron shook his head. “Merlin, you really _are_ pants at relationships.”

Harry bit his lip, wondering if he’d already cocked up his chances for a happy ending with Draco before it even began.

“I panicked,” he said. “Draco said something last night that I wasn’t prepared to hear. He was falling asleep so I’m not even certain he meant it.”

Ron frowned. “What did he say?”

“We were having a lovely conversation, trying to talk about things we don’t know about each other.”

“What did he _say_?” Ron was getting impatient.

“That . . . he thought he was . . . falling in love with me.” Harry blushed again.

“Oh.” Ron pressed his lips together. “And you thought it was a good idea to run out on ‘im.” He smacked the back of Harry’s head. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

Harry rubbed his head, then pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I told you I’m pants at this stuff. What should I do?”

“Leave, immediately, and go talk to him.”

“What do I say?”

Rolling his eyes, Ron told him, “You ask him what he wants out of your relationship. And you tell him what you want.”

“Is that what you did with Hermione?”

“Well, you know, I didn’t have to. She sort of took the lead. You know girls communicate better than blokes.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah. Draco doesn’t seem to have difficulty communicating though. Fuck me, he probably thinks I just didn’t want to spend time with him. I’ve got to go.”

He left Ron shaking his head and disapparated as soon as he left the shop. Walking up the stairs to Draco’s flat, Harry tried to figure out what he was going to say. What was Ron’s advice? Ask Draco what he wants out of the relationship. He could do that. The difficulty would be telling Draco what he wants.

He took a breath in then let it out slowly, and knocked on the door.

He knocked again.

One more time.

“Fuck.”

⚯

Harry sent no fewer than three owls to Draco’s residence. Each note included Harry’s address or a suggestion for a meeting place. By half-eight that evening, Harry had convinced himself that Draco was on the pull in some sordid pub. He grabbed his coat and was about to foolishly search Diagon Alley for him when he heard a knock on his door.

Finding Draco standing there, Harry stared for a moment, then practically leapt into his arms, kissing him hard.

“Where have you been?”

“You said you had plans with Weasley, so I rung up Blaise.”

“You weren’t out getting sloshed with some fit bloke?”

The corner of Draco’s mouth lifted. “Actually, Blaise is quite fit. But we weren’t getting sloshed. We were–”

“I’m sorry I left,” Harry interrupted. “I was afraid things were moving more quickly than I expected.”

“Really? I thought we were on relatively even footing. But, I understand if you’ve changed your mind in the cold light of day.”

“Changed my mind about what?”

They stood on either side of the threshold, both realizing they weren’t sure where the other one stood figuratively.

“Why don’t you come in?” Harry moved aside. 

His mind raced. What did he say the night before, and what made Draco think he’d changed his mind? As uncomfortable as Harry felt about discussing his feelings, it needed to be done.

“I’ll make us some tea,” Harry offered.

While walking toward the kitchen, he directed Draco to the sitting room of the former House of Black. It had been renovated extensively, save for Sirius’ old bedroom. Harry went through that personally and preserved as much of it as possible, whilst still neatening it up. The family tree was still on the sitting room wall, but Harry had covered it up with a new wall hanging.

Carrying a tray of tea and accompaniments into the room, Harry noticed that, unlike himself, Draco appeared at ease and confident. He placed the tray on the ottoman in front of the sofa, and sat down on the opposite end.

Harry poured out and waited for his guest to prepare his tea to his liking.

“Thank you,” Draco said before sipping.

Scratching his head, Harry asked again, “What do you think I changed my mind about?”

“Me, of course.”

“You?” Harry scoffed. “Maybe you missed the part where I kissed you when you showed up on my doorstep.”

Draco put his tea down. “You do send mixed signals.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“May I offer my perspective of the situation?”

Harry nodded.

“You’re attracted to me, which you find disturbing, considering our past relationship. You’re conflicted, but in the heat of the moment, you gave in to the part of you that wants me. You got carried away, perhaps telling me what you thought I wanted to hear. However, now that your curiosity is satisfied, you’re having second thoughts.”

Harry frowned. “If I was having second thoughts, I wouldn’t have tried so hard to see you today. I could have easily avoided you.”

“Isn’t that what you tried to do this morning?”

“No. I really did have to meet Ron.” Harry sighed. “I was avoiding an uncomfortable conversation, though.”

Draco laughed. “You only put it off. Unless you’re suddenly eager to talk about your feelings.”

“No. But I realize if I want to have a . . . a boyfriend, I’m going to need to.”

Harry drank down his tea now that it had cooled off a bit, and looked to Draco who was waiting patiently. Draco was right about one thing. Harry was attracted to him; his face, his body, his eyes, and his dick. But it was more than that. He was attracted to Draco’s confidence, his ease, and his ability to express himself so clearly.

“I _was_ conflicted, to be honest,” Harry began. “Not about your past. Well, indirectly, I suppose. Once I had spoken to Shacklebolt, I got over thinking of you and the others as Death Eaters. I meant it when I said I don’t quite think of you as the same person I knew at Hogwarts. The problem was not knowing what other people would think of me dating a former Death Eater.”

“You don’t have to answer to anyone else. You can date whomever you please. I think everyone would agree you’ve earned that right.”

“I think _everyone_ has that right. Including you.”

“All right, now that we’ve established that, what other misgivings do you have?”

Harry looked down at his fidgeting fingers.

“My inexperience,” he said quietly.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t mean physically.” Harry blushed. “I’ve got plenty of experience fucking. I just don’t know what to do afterward.”

“Fuck again?” Draco suggested, making Harry laugh.

“And then?”

“What’s wrong with what we did last night?”

“You mean talking?” asked Harry. “I think I could try that. I liked the part when you lay next to me and we fell asleep, as well.”

“Yes,” Draco said, and Harry thought he saw a slight flush across his cheeks. “Are we not going to address the elephant in the room?”

Harry’s heart sped up. He was hoping they wouldn’t. If there was anything he learned about Draco, though, it was that he was straightforward. In contrast, Harry played things close to the vest.

He sighed. “All right. I suppose we should.”

“I could say that a man shouldn’t be held accountable for what he says in his sleep. But technically speaking, neither of us was asleep. I was relaxed enough, however, to speak my mind, or rather, my heart. I just wasn’t expecting you to reciprocate.”

“What?” Harry blinked.

“Was that not what you meant when you said _me too_?”

Harry could almost feel the blood drain from his face, then suddenly fill back up. His heart, which had finally begun to calm down, beat like wings of a hummingbird.

“I said that out loud?”

Draco chuckled. “Oh, so all this time you thought your secret was safe?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, I’m finished with secrets. I’d kept enough when I was younger to last me a lifetime. And I rather like knowing there’s a chance you may fall for me as hard as I’m falling for you.”

Harry sucked in a breath. Even though Draco had said nearly the same thing the night before, it was a far different experience to see in Draco’s eyes the emotions he was confessing.

“I want to make love to you.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry was certain Draco would take the opportunity to tease him in some way, or point out his gracelessness.

Draco shook his head. “Now isn’t the time. Spend the day with me tomorrow first.”

“Why not? What if I promise not to run away again?”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then why?”

Reaching out, Draco gently took Harry’s hand. “I know you want me. And you’re open to the possibility of loving me. But I want you to _like_ me. I want you to want to spend time with me even if there’s no shagging involved. Otherwise, this will only last long enough for a couple of spectacular fucks.” He paused, and let go of Harry’s hand. “If that’s all this turns out to be, I’d like to know that going in.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco’s finger covered it.

“Don’t. I don’t want you to begin a habit of patronizing me. All I ask is for your honesty. I’ll give the same in return. I want you, Harry.And I’ll take you pretty much any way I can get you. Whatever you’re willing to give. Only you get to decide how much that is.”

“That sounds a bit too much like capitulation for my liking,” Harry said. “If I’m not mistaken, there are two of us with a stake in this. And the two of us should decide together where it takes us.”

Draco nodded. “Are you still willing to spend tomorrow with me?”

“Of course.”

“Be ready at eight for breakfast. I’ll tell you the rest of the itinerary tomorrow when I pick you up.”

The corners of Harry’s mouth raised. He wasn’t ready to admit it to Draco, but he liked when the man took charge. 

“I’ll be ready.” Harry said. “Oh, how should I dress?”

Draco stroked his chin. “The way you’re dressed now will do. If I need to, I’ll transfigure our clothing.”

“Where–” Harry started to ask, but he knew Draco wouldn’t tell him. He was sort of excited by the prospect of Draco surprising him, anyway.

“All I’ll say is that I plan on showing you who I am tomorrow, for better or worse.” 


	9. For Better or Worse

Sitting in a small cafe in Diagon Alley, Harry watched Draco as he meticulously poured syrup into each and every square of his Belgian waffle. He briefly wondered if that was one of those sweet little idiosyncrasies that would eventually become annoying ten years down the road. 

Ten years down the road. Could Harry really see himself sitting at a cafe eating breakfast with Draco that far ahead? He shook his head. It was far too soon to think of such things. For now, he was enjoying Draco’s OCD moment.

“How is your French toast?” Draco asked him. 

“Very good. I’d ask you how your waffles are but you seem to be content to make art rather than eating them.”

Draco laughed. “Does that bother you?”

“No. It seems like something Hermione would do, though. You know, I never really considered it, but I think maybe the two of you might have gotten on well, under different circumstances.”

Draco’s hands stopped cutting, for only a split second, then continued.

“And why is that?”

“Unlike Ron and me, you and Hermione have a sense of propriety.”

“Are you calling yourself uncouth?”

“No,” Harry chuckled. “But I’m not concerned about using the proper fork at supper, or whether or not the Prophet has made up an unsavory story about me again, or being shy about saying fuck in public.”

“Something tells me Granger doesn’t use such language very often.”

“No, her vocabulary is far too extensive to resort to cursing to express herself.” Harry laughed to himself. “Then again, perhaps your sense of propriety isn’t quite what I thought it was. After all, you bought some rather racy toys for me, which, as I recall, you said you had for yourself.”

A slight blush tinged Draco’s cheeks. “I confess I only said that to get a reaction from you. And I had my mother’s House Elf buy the _toys_ in my place.”

“To preserve the illusion of propriety, I’m sure.”

“Of course. I am fairly resourceful.”

Harry popped the last forkful of French toast into his mouth and swallowed. “So, will you tell me now what we’re doing today?”

“First I have some errands to run, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah. Where to?”

“A book shop.”

Harry smiled to himself. He didn’t know if Hermione could ever truly get over the way Draco had treated her when they were younger. But if she could, she and Draco just may have enough in common to be friends. Harry knew it would be asking a lot. 

When Draco held out his elbow for Harry to take, the last place he expected to end up was an alleyway in Muggle London.

“I thought we were going to a book shop,” Harry said.

“We are.”

“But, this isn’t Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.”

“I know. Those places don’t have what I’m looking for.”

They rounded a corner and came out onto a fairly busy main road. Draco pointed ahead.

“The shops here are bigger and much more diverse than the magical ones.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He walked next to Draco, then followed him inside the two story building. He’d never been a particularly avid reader, but he couldn’t help be impressed by the sheer number of books. Hermione would lose her mind in here. Then again, she most likely already knew about this place.

He trailed Draco throughout the store, occasionally picking up a nearby book and leafing through it. As an Auror, he didn’t have a great deal of free time. And when he did, he preferred to spend it in the company of his friends or out a pub listening to live music.

Draco had picked out something that looked to Harry a bit mysterious. Then he led Harry to the upper level toward a section in the corner.

“Is this a children’s section?” Harry asked.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“These look like cartoons.”

Chuckling, Draco took a book from the shelf. “It’s called Manga. It’s Japanese. And I suppose it is a bit childish. However, the content is anything but.”

While he perused the shelves, Harry thumbed through the one Draco handed him.

“Actually, it goes from right to left,” Draco told him.

“Oh.” Harry started at the correct end and looked at the drawings. They reminded him an American show Teddy liked in which people kept their fighting animals in little red and white balls. About fifteen pages in, Harry came across explicit nude drawings of two men engaged in fellatio. He blushed and quickly closed the book. He tossed it sideways on the shelf and went to look for Draco.

He found him on the other side of the bookshelf with two more books in his hand.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, “that’s pornography.”

“I warned you, for better or worse.”

Harry bit his lip. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen pornography. But normally, he was only interested when he was lonely and didn’t have a live partner.

“Do you read this sort of thing often?”

“What can I say, I’m a romantic at heart,” Draco quipped, then made his way to the check out.

“Wait, you have Muggle money?” Harry asked.

“I don’t normally. I only go to the Ministry Exchange when I know I’m going to need it. When you took me to that Muggle pub the other night, I was unprepared.”

Once they were back out onto the street, Harry asked, “What’s next?” He was hoping their next stop wouldn’t be a gay strip club.

“Um, the next stop will be quick. I promise.”

Harry didn’t even have time to ask where they were going before Draco pulled him into a vestibule and disapparated them away.

Harry took a deep breath and kept his eyes closed a moment. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

“My apologies. I had to act quickly while no Muggles were looking”

“It’s fine. But please warn me next time.” Harry opened his eyes and gasped. “Are we . . .”

“At the Manor, yes.”

Heels clicked down the hallway. “Draco darling, is that you?”

“Yes, Mother. And I’ve brought a . . . guest.”

“Oh.” Narcissa stopped short at seeing Harry. “Mr. Potter, welcome.”

Harry glared at Draco, but the man wouldn’t look his way. “Hello, Mrs. Malfoy. Lovely to see you.”

“Clara, tea please,” Narcissa called.

A small House Elf appeared out of nowhere. “What kind of tea should Clara bring Missus?”

“We can’t stay, Mother. I only stopped by to bring you the next book in that series you’re reading.”

“Oh, how thoughtful.” She smiled as she took the book from him. “Are you going to explain why you brought Mr. Potter with you?”

Draco looked at Harry, then his mother. “No.”

For a moment, everyone was silent. Harry glanced back and forth between Draco and his mother, trying to decide which one of them was going to crack first.

“Another time, then,” Narcissa finally said. Draco had won. 

Harry got the feeling they had similar showdowns quite often.

“I’m sorry Clara,” Draco said. “I’m afraid you’ll only be serving tea to Mother today. But I promise to visit again soon.”

“Yes, Master Draco. Clara will have Master Draco’s favorite biscuits.” The little elf bowed and disappeared.

“You’ll let me know ahead of time, won’t you darling?” Narcissa asked. “And if you’ll be bringing your guest.”

“I hope to.”

Narcissa looked Harry up and down, then smiled at him. She turned to Draco.

“Very well.”

Draco kissed his mother’s cheek. “We’re off then.”

Leading Harry out the door, Draco simply said, “Apparating.”

Harry prepared himself and let Draco whisk him away to their next destination. He was surprised to find that they were in a small park by a pond.

“I should have told you to wear a warmer coat,” Draco said. He took out his wand and cast a warming spell over them.

“What are we doing here?” asked Harry. “Not that it isn’t a lovely place.”

“This is where I come to mull things over. I enjoy feeding the swans.”

Harry wasn’t sure why that should surprise him. For some reason, he didn’t think Draco would fancy animals. He was slightly taken aback when Draco dipped into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a handful of dried corn and oats.

“Give me your hand,” he told Harry. Harry did as directed.

Draco pulled out another handful from his other trouser pocket. By this time, two white swans and one black one were swimming toward them.

Instinctively, Harry backed up. “Do they bite?”

“They can. But if it happens, it’s usually by accident. Keep your fingers together, and cup your hand.”

The first swan hopped out onto the grassy embankment, heading straight for Draco. He squatted down and held out his hand. The bird moved quickly, pecking at the food in his palm. By then, the other two birds were out of the water and also moving toward him.

“Hold out the food, so they know you have it,” he said. 

Nervous, Harry did as he was told, imitating Draco’s stance. The black swan hesitated, seeming to size Harry up before nipping at the food in his hand. Though his instinct was to drop the food on the ground and move away, Harry figured if he could stand up to Voldemort, he could handle a bird. Even a rather large bird.

At first glance, the feathers appeared black. But on closer inspection, they were almost iridescent. The bright red beak stood out in contrast to the feathers. “They’re beautiful,” Harry said.

Once the feed was gone and the swans had given up looking for more, Harry and Draco sat on a park bench. Another couple had strolled along the path around the pond, and the swans were fervently swimming toward them.

“Do you come here often?”

Draco grinned. “Is that your best line?”

Harry shoved him lightly with his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Nodding, Draco said, “Not as often as I’d like. I prefer to come when the cygnets are hatched. Although, the adults are a bit more feisty then.”

“I thought I remembered hearing that your family’s property has a lake with peacocks. Why would you come here, rather than there?”

“The peacocks all disappeared when the Dark Lord took over the Manor. Most of them left on their own. Though I suspect Greyback may have helped himself to a few of them. They never returned.”

“Oh.”

“They are quite graceful. Even more so than the peacocks, with those ungainly tails. The swans have a modest elegance about them. As if they don’t even know, or care, how very exceptional they are.”

“I suppose,” Harry agreed.

“Not unlike a certain wizard I know.”

Harry turned to look at Draco, but the other man continued to watch the birds. He suspected Draco might have been talking about him. But his own modesty wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Draco continued. “I should like my patronus to be a swan, if I had one.”

“You don’t have a patronus?”

Shrugging, Draco replied, “Possibly. I’ve never been able to produce one, though. As far as I know, Professor Snape was the only Death Eater that could produce the charm.”

Harry pursed his lips. “Wouldn’t you want your patronus to be a dragon?”

“Oh, that’s much too cliché.” Draco stood. “Come. I’m getting a bit peckish.”

“Where are we going now?”

“There’s a bank of stalls near here.”

“Muggle food?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think we can find wizarding stalls in the middle of London, Potter?” 

He offered his elbow and Harry knew they were about to apparate. They appeared in front a dilapidated building. Draco glanced around, then took out his wand. In a similar fashion to entering Diagon Alley, he tapped several of the bricks. An opening was revealed and they stepped through.

“I never knew this was here,” Harry said.

“It’s relatively new. There are places like this popping up all over as wizards are branching out into the Muggle world.”

“You surprise me.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Yes.”

The walked along a cobblestone path that reminded Harry of a miniature Diagon Alley. Most of the stall were peddling food items. But there were some selling clothing or supplies. As they passed a chip shop, Harry inhaled deeply. 

“Mm, that smells wonderful.”

“Fish and chips, it is then,” Draco said. 

They ordered and found a small cafe table at which to eat. Though it was January, the magical bubble around the alleyway kept them warm enough.

“So, how did you find this place?” Harry asked.

“Shacklebolt. He recommended we former Death Eaters experience the ways of the Muggle-born. I suspect that’s what many of the wizards here are. They want to live and work near Muggle relatives, yet still practice wizarding ways. It was a difficult concept for me to grasp at first. I don’t know how you lived that way for so long.”

“With Muggles?” Harry shrugged. “It wasn’t the fact they were Muggles that was difficult. It was that they were horrible people. They only took me on outings when they couldn’t find a sitter. And when they did . . . it doesn’t matter. That part of my life is over. But I suppose if things had been different and I actually cared for my family, I might want to live near them.”

“But why, when you can simply apparate wherever you want to go.”

“Yes, but Muggles can’t. They have to take the Tube, or drive. Or even fly on an aeroplane to get far away. And they can’t get into Diagon Alley or other magical places on their own. Besides, London is a wonderful city, with so much to see and do, regardless of whether you’re a wizard or a Muggle.”

“Yes, this I know.”

“Meaning?”

“You’ll have to be patient. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Harry smiled. “This whole day has been a surprise. I don’t think anything could possibly spoil it.”

Draco took out a pocket watch. “We’ve still got a couple of hours before we have to be there.”

“Where?”

“Sh, I’m thinking.”

Harry watched Draco as he appeared to be considering his options for killing time before their next stop. Harry could think of something to do. He didn’t think Draco would go for it, though. But perhaps if he asked for forgiveness, rather than permission.

He reached out and turned Draco’s head to face him. Public be damned, he kissed Draco, satisfying an urge he’d had since breakfast. Draco didn’t resist.

After a while, Harry pulled back. He was becoming aroused and didn’t want to embarrass himself, or Draco, in public. A kiss was one thing. An obvious stiffy was another.

“That was unexpected.” Draco’s breath was ragged, lips swollen. “I didn’t take you for one to enjoy public displays of affection.”

“You either.”

“I was showing deference to you. Or, I thought I was. I’ve _got_ it.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“A way to pass the time.” He reached for Harry’s hand.

⚯

“This isn’t what I thought you had in mind,” Harry said as they queued for a ride on The London Eye. “I’m getting cold.”

“And what did you think I had in mind?”

Harry looked down at a small child standing next to them.

“I’d rather not say.”

Draco chuckled. He put his arm around Harry and pulled him close. With all the Muggles around, they dared not take out a wand for a warming spell. 

They entered a capsule with no less than twenty other guests.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said. “This is much less romantic than I had imagined.”

“Oh, I don’t know. The sunset over the city is pretty romantic to me.” Harry couldn’t resist another kiss.

“Take care there, Potter,” Draco whispered against Harry’s lips. “You don’t want to get me off in front of all these Muggles. I’d have to Obliviate them. And after they’d paid to see the sights.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Speaking of which, you must have exchanged quite a bit of galleons for today.”

“I wasn’t sure exactly what we’d be doing today, so I figured I’d better have a stash. Just in case.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

As the capsule rotated, Harry and Draco listened to the Muggles talk about the different buildings and attractions they saw. It was amazing to them how much Muggles could accomplish without magic. The lights all throughout the city were on, looking like a starry night below. Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s as the capsule descended.

“This was lovely. Thank you.”

Draco turned to face him. He looked like he was about to say something, but he merely squeezed Harry’s hand.

⚯

“There’s one more place I’d like to take you. It’s truly a special occasion. And, as such, we must dress formally.”

Harry nodded. He had been prepared for this. Draco transfigured both of their clothing into what looked to Harry like Muggle tuxedos. 

“This is awfully formal, Draco. Are you certain we won’t be overdressed?”

“Quite.”

Not that Harry was complaining, Draco looked mighty fit in his suit. They stepped out of the public loo and began walking down the busy main road. There was still a chill in the air, but Harry didn’t care. People they passed took notice of the pair, and he was proud to be walking side by side with such an elegant young man. Perhaps Draco’s wish to have a swan patronus was fitting.

Draco presented two tickets at the box office of a small venue. The building appeared nearly as old as some of the wizarding establishments he’d seen. Ornate wood carving adorned the doorways. Rows of seats were covered in red velvet.

An usher looked at Draco’s tickets and led them to seats near the middle of the audience. 

“The tickets were bought last minute,” Draco explained. “Otherwise, I would have preferred the balcony.”

“No, these are fine,” Harry said. “Um, what is it we’re seeing?”

“Do you enjoy opera?”

Harry didn’t want to be rude, but he honestly did not. His silence apparently spoke for him.

“I knew this would be too much,” Draco berated himself.

“You wanted to show me who you are. If this is who you are, then I want to be here,” Harry said. 

“What sort of music do you listen to?” Draco asked.

“At home I listen to the Wireless; Weird Sisters and the like. But if I’m going out to a club, I enjoy jazz.”

“I beg your pardon? Did you say jizz?”

Harry laughed out loud. “Jazz,” he repeated, putting emphasis on the a sound. “Haven’t you ever heard of it?”

“My parents always listened to classical music. I’ve never really developed a taste for loud, raucous music.”

“Jazz is fairly mellow. At least, the sort I like. But to be honest, I am a bit amazed you would go out of your way to see a Muggle performance.”

“I find the lack of musical variety in the wizarding world appalling.”

The lights in the hall flickered.

“It’s going to begin soon,” Draco told him.

“What are we seeing anyway?”

“Two sopranos. They’ll sing a selection of arias from several famous operas. I couldn’t believe the good luck of getting tickets for tonight. And by the way, don’t applaud until the conductor completely lowers his hands. You don’t want to be _that_ person.”

At first, Harry sat up straight, eager to hear something new. The first two songs were in another language, and Harry had no idea what they were singing about. Their voices were beautiful and clear, but when one of them sang something that sounded much too similar to a lullaby, Harry felt his lids get heavy. He wished it was over.

Clapping startled him, and he wondered if he had actually drifted off to sleep. He looked at Draco, who was looking back at him, his mouth a tight, thin line.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. He made an effort to sit up taller. 

He managed to stay awake for two songs, which, in Harry’s opinion went on forever. He carefully opened his playbill to see if he could tell if it was almost over. But he had no idea what song had been sung last. Not that it mattered. Some of it was written in Italian, some in French, and at least one in German. He closed the booklet and decided he simply had to suck it up.

Draco leaned over and whispered, “This is one of my favorites. It’s from an opera called Lakmé. It’s quite famous. The song, that is.”

“Is it in another language too?”

“French. Lakmé and her servant are collecting flowers by a riverbank. Thus, the reason it’s entitled the Flower Duet.”

“Oh.” Harry watched as the conductor raised his arms.

One woman sang, then the other, and both were pleasant. But when they sang together, Harry could understand why it was one of Draco’s favorites. He even thought perhaps he had heard it before.

A couple of minutes into it, Harry turned, intending to tell Draco how much he was enjoying the song. But Draco was riveted to the stage, in the moment with the two women, experiencing the emotion that Harry was lacking. Perhaps it was because Draco knew the story behind it. And Harry just thought it was a pretty song. Draco’s mouth gaped slightly, his eyebrows twitched, as if he wanted to be up there singing with them. As if they were singing only to him. For more than four minutes, he was lost to Harry. And Harry was jealous.

When at last the audience erupted in applause, Draco turned to Harry. And Harry could see a tear forming in the corner of his eye. It seemed to take a second or two for Draco to come back to himself.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

Harry reached up and wiped the small tear just as it escaped. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I mean, heard,” he corrected himself.

The women curtsied, the audience stood, and Harry was glad it was over. Not because he didn’t find the experience enjoyable, but because he didn’t think he could contain his feelings for Draco one minute longer.

“I like you,” he blurted out.

A woman in the row in front of them turned and giggled behind her hand.

“Sorry?” Draco questioned.

Harry blushed. “I said I _like_ you. Now can we go home and shag?”


	10. I Like You

“I said I _like_ you. Now can we go home and shag?”

“Harry, I don’t think this is the place to talk about it.” Draco glanced around to find a couple of people nearby seemed to be eavesdropping.

“Why not? You brought me here to show me who you are.”

“And you fell asleep.”

Harry blushed. “I am sorry about that. But just because I wasn’t as moved by the music as you were, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what it means to you.” Harry looked and noticed patrons lingering, but he didn’t care. “You wanted a guarantee that our relationship could last beyond a couple of spectacular fucks. There’s never a guarantee of that. All I know is that right now I want you, I like you, and–

“All right,” Draco interrupted. “I’ll take you home.”

He grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him through the crowd leaving the theater. Harry had to walk quickly to keep up with Draco’s long strides. They turned a corner, disapparating away the moment they were out of view.

For all Harry noticed, Draco could have apparated them to the moon. Once they were alone, Harry could see only him. They were still holding hands, and Harry squeezed Draco’s before kissing him.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Draco asked him. “ _I’m_ what you want?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then tell me why you suddenly decided you like me.”

Harry snickered. “It’s hardly all of a sudden. Despite my best efforts, I’ve been coming to like you for a little while now. But today, seeing you outside of work, doing things you like to do and sharing them with me . . .”

“You did _not_ like all the things we did today.”

“Perhaps not. But people who are together don’t always enjoy all of the same things. I mean, Ron loves wizard’s chess and playing Quidditch, but Hermione loves books and baths. Besides, I did enjoy the ride and the view of London. And I found it endearing that you meticulously filled each hole of your waffle with syrup. And that, regardless of the fact that you’re an adult, you still wanted your mother’s approval to date me.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest.

“You can’t deny it. Why else would you have brought me to your family’s home?”

“You have me there,” Draco said. “Actually, you can have me anywhere.”

“The bed,” Harry said. “I want you on the bed.”

They began to undress in silence. Harry’s fingers trembled in anticipation, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. 

“Why don’t we make this simpler?” Draco asked. He took out his wand and Vanished the clothing.

“Hey, that suit used to be my favorite jumper,” Harry said. “Now I’ve nothing to wear home.”

“Damn. I guess you can’t leave, then.”

Harry’s eyes traveled along Draco’s lithe body, pausing at his cock, full and taut. He loved the way it curved back against Draco’s stomach. It made Harry even harder to see that Draco was so thoroughly aroused.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted somebody as much as I want you right now,” Harry confessed.

“I told you, you can have me. I’m yours.”

Draco’s hand caressed Harry’s cheek before they kissed. Harry hadn’t felt a connection with many of his previous lovers. Sure, he’d been attracted to them, full of want and lust. Some of them even made it seem as though the feelings between them ran deep. But he was realizing that it was their bodies he’d been after. The rest was an illusion. Once his lust was satisfied, there was no real relationship to continue. 

He wanted all of Draco. For the first time, he looked forward to what happened when the sex was over.

As his lips and tongue tangled with Draco’s, and their bodies pressed together, Harry’s chest tightened. He felt as though he could never get enough of Draco to satiate his hunger for him. No matter how firmly he pressed against him, it wasn’t close enough. 

Harry realized it wasn’t that he wanted to be merely physically close to Draco. He had actually meant the words he had spoken Friday evening, even if he hadn’t been prepared for either of them to acknowledge it. He was falling for Draco. Hard.

“Wait,” Harry breathed.

“What’s wrong?” Draco reluctantly pulled away.

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything is wonderful.”

“Then why did you stop? My bollocks are turning blue.”

Harry laughed. “I want to do things properly.”

“I thought we were doing things perfectly well.”

“Nearly. I want to ask you something first.”

“Anything.”

“Will you . . . be my boyfriend?” Harry’s face flushed.

“Hmm, let me think.”

Harry shoved Draco’s shoulder. “Arsehole.”

“Don’t mind if I help myself.” Draco slid a finger along Harry’s thigh up to his arse.

“Wait, is that a _yes_?”

“That’s an _absofuckinglutely_.”

Unable to hide his grin, Harry kissed Draco, or rather tried to. Their teeth bumped gracelessly as they hugged and groped. Harry felt like a giddy school boy on his first train ride to Hogwarts.

With butterflies squirming in his belly, Harry whispered, “I want you to make love to me.”

“Everything I do is making love to you.” Draco nibbled at Harry’s earlobe.

“I mean, I want you to fuck me. I want your cock inside me.”

“Oh, I want that too.” Draco’s voice was low and husky. And it made Harry feel like the most desired person in the world. “Don’t move. We’re going to need lube for this.”

Harry closed his eyes, waiting for Draco to return.A few times, he thought he might accidentally cum from sheer anticipation. The bed dipped between Harry’s legs and he instinctively widened them.

“Eager, are we?” Draco chuckled. “I should have asked permission the first time I used the cleaning spell. Is it all right if I use it now?”

Harry nodded. “I figured that’s what that was. The one I normally use isn’t as pleasant.”

“I’ll gladly teach it to you. You’ll need it when it comes time for you to fuck me.”

Harry felt the warming, then a well-lubed finger. It had been quite a while since he’d had more than fingers in his arse and he was anxious, but he willed himself to relax. Once he did, Draco slid another finger inside. With the third, Harry found himself bearing down. He was ready.

“Now Draco. I’m ready for your cock now.”

Draco rubbed extra lube on himself and positioned his cock at Harry’s opening.

“Ready?”

Harry nodded.

Draco took his time, first rubbing his cock around the entrance, then pushing slowly inside. Harry gasped and fisted the sheets.

“All right?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded again. He didn’t trust his voice not to give away his discomfort. And he didn’t want to do anything that might make Draco stop. It didn’t work.

“Am I hurting you? I thought you said you had plenty of experience fucking.”

“I’m fine. It’s been a long time, is all.”

“How long?” Draco asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I want this now. Please don’t stop.”

“Harry, I want this too. But not at your expense.”

Gripping Draco’s arms, Harry looked up at him. “I’ve mostly topped. But this _is_ what I want, with you. Maybe, start slowly.” He took a deep breath. “I’m already getting used to it.”

Draco leaned forward to kiss him. The movement pushed him just a bit more inside. The longer they snogged, the further Draco steadily sank into Harry, until their bodies were flush. Harry groaned aloud.

“Still all right?” asked Draco.

“Fucking brilliant.”

Draco pulled back, nearly all the way out, then slid in again to the hilt. Harry gasped. When he looked up at Draco, he saw concern, so he smiled. He was rewarded with the grin Harry had come to adore so much.

“You can go a bit faster than that,” Harry told him. “It feels great.”

Acquiescing to Harry’s wishes, Draco pulled back and moved forward more quickly, but only slightly. The look in his eyes told Harry he wanted it to last as long as possible. Harry was so hard and leaking, he was sure it wouldn’t be very long at all.

Eventually, Draco’s pace increased, along with Harry’s wanton moans. He took Harry’s cock in hand and stroked with the speed of his thrusts. 

“You’re still holding back,” Harry breathed. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Draco released him and pulled Harry’s legs over his shoulder, practically folding him in half. He braced himself and plunged in harder and faster.

“Fuck, yes,” Harry cried. “That’s fucking perfect.”

Sweat started to form on Draco’s brow and dripped onto Harry’s chest. He dared not change his position in the slightest, for the sounds Harry was making told him that Harry was getting exactly what he wanted.

Despite the overwhelming pleasure Harry was experiencing, he was lucid enough try and give some back. He reached up and rubbed Draco’s chest, recalling how he seemed to like to be fondled during their first encounter. Draco faltered slightly at Harry’s touch, but recovered his pace, and grunted his approval. Harry’s fingertips lightly tweaked Draco’s nipples, making him gasp and moan.

Harry moved a hand to his own chest.

“Wank yourself, Harry. I’m not going to last much longer. I’m almost–fuck. I’m almost ready to cum.”

“Me too,” Harry whispered. 

The moment he flicked his own nipple, Harry let loose. Draco’s eyes widened as streams of white shot across Harry’s chest. Harry’s grip on Draco’s nipple was so tight he was certain to leave bruises. 

“Fuck.” Draco pushed into Harry one last time, emptying himself as Harry’s arse milked him dry.

With Harry’s knees nearly touching the sides of his own head, they kissed, still trying to catch their breath.

Draco grinned. “You’re quite flexible.”

“Auror training.” Harry winked.

One more peck on the lips, and Draco slipped out of Harry. He got up to retrieve his wand in order to clean them up. Harry spread his arms and legs wide, ready for his turn.

Draco’s cock twitched at the sight.

“Ready for another go already?’ Harry asked.

“Not quite,” Draco snickered. “But if anything could get me going again so quickly, it would be you, lying on my bed so invitingly.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty knackered myself. I have never been so thoroughly fucked in my life.”

Draco laughed.

“I’m serious.” Harry sat up. “I’ve never really been able to tell a partner what I’ve wanted.”

“Too shy?”

“Not exactly. I’ve simply taken whatever they were willing to give. And it was enough.” He shrugged. “But with you, I wanted everything you had. I feel like I could ask anything of you. And even if you couldn’t give it, you wouldn’t judge me for asking.”

“You _can_ ask anything of me. I’ll give you whatever you want. I told you, I’m yours.”

Harry looked up at Draco, standing there nude. Naked with nothing to hide behind, the sincerity written all over his face. The imagery was not lost on Harry. Neither were the words.

He tried to summon up words of his own. They were stuck somewhere between his heart and his lips. Draco would have to be patient with him.

“Come,” Draco said. “Let’s get under the covers. It’s getting cold.”

Harry smiled. It wasn’t cold, but he certainly didn’t mind snuggling into bed with his new lover.

As Draco spooned him from behind, he said, “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.”

“It’s hard to choose,” Harry chuckled.

“I’ll want to know everything, so you may as well start now.”

“All right. I enjoy Muggle television and movies.”

“Oh dear, you aren’t going to make me watch them, are you?”

“I’m surprised you know what they are.”

“Really? After I took you to _three_ Muggle places today?”

“Right. But then, you might enjoy a Muggle movie. Ron has a Muggle telly rigged up in his flat. I go over there and we watch some comedy shows. When Hermione’s there, we tend to watch what they call romantic comedies. They all have sort of the same ending though, so I don’t always see the point. Your turn.” Harry pulled Draco’s hand over him and began rubbing circles on his arm.

“I’m allergic to dogs.”

“You are?”

“I must be. Whenever I’m around them, I sneeze.”

“What about cats?”

“I don’t think so. Pansy had a cat. And while the damn thing was so mean it never got close enough to pet, I never sneezed at her house.”

“I don’t think I’m allergic to any animals,” Harry said. “But I don’t really fancy dogs anyway. And Hermione’s cat is a nightmare. Though, I suppose he’s not long for this life by now. Ron hates the bloody thing,” Harry laughed. “Did you know that they’re getting married?”

“Weasley and the cat?”

“No, silly. Ron and Hermione. This summer.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Draco said. “If ever there were two people who couldn’t decide between hexing each other and fucking, it’s them.”

“Ron would find it amusing that even you picked up on that, when they couldn’t.”

“I picked up on it when it was us, as well.”

Harry turned around. “What?”

“You can’t tell me you never thought about it, can you?”

“Thought about what?”

Draco blushed. “I suppose it was one-sided then.”

“Draco?”

“I was always thankful for the robes, you know. There were times we’d argue or try to hex each other . . . I had to walk away, or I probably would have cum in my pants.” Draco laughed. “I knew I looked like a coward, but it was better than having everyone see that tussling with you got me hard.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “It did?”

“I hated that it did. Back then. Now, I rather enjoy it.”

“Did it get you hard when I came into your office to confront you about the sex toys?”

“I have a bit more control over my erections these days.”

“Pity,” Harry said.

“Speaking of which . . . never mind.”

“Didn’t we make some sort of agreement about honesty?” Harry asked. “The only way we’re going to know what’s on each other’s mind is to say it. For better or worse, yeah?”

“What about pride or conceit?”

“I suppose that would be the worse,” Harry chuckled. “Now what were you going to say?”

Draco gave him a devilish grin. “I fucked you _good_ , didn’t I? I’ve never actually experienced fucking someone so hard they came without wanking.”

“And here I thought that was going to be the norm,” Harry joked. Then his smile faded. “In all honesty, that wasn’t even the best part.”

“Then what _was_ the best part?”

“Your concern for my well being. Most blokes want it in and out and on their merry way.”

“I’m not most blokes,” Draco reminded him.

“No, you most certainly are not.”

⚯

“Harry.”

“Harry, wake up.”

“Wake up, or you’re going to be late.” Draco shook Harry’s shoulder.

“What? Late?” Harry sat up quickly. “What time is it?”

“Half-seven.”

“Fuck. Why didn’t you wake me?”

Draco stood with his hands on his hips. “I did. twice already.”

Harry threw off the covers and began searching around. “Where the fuck are my clothes?”

“Oops.” Draco giggled. “Borrow something of mine.”

“No time. I have to apparate home and shower. Take the charms off so I can leave.”

Draco waved his wand, mumbling a spell. “You’re free to go.”

“Thanks.” Harry grinned and gave Draco a quick kiss before disapparating.

Back at home, Harry showered just long enough to wash his hair. The shampoo running down his body would have to be an adequate cleaning job. His hair was still slightly damp when he walked into the office he shared with Ron.

“You’re late.” Ron didn’t even look up.

“Sorry. I . . . overslept. I didn’t hear my alarm.”

“Uh huh.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“That you didn’t hear your alarm? Of course I do.” Ron tried not to laugh. “Kind of hard to hear your alarm all the way from Malfoy’s flat.”

“How did you know?”

“He stopped by to let me know you’d probably be late. Took a lot of bollocks to apparate naked. What if your willy got splinched?”

“I can’t believe he told you that.”

“I can’t believe I’m beginning to think he’s not all that bad.”

“Really?” Harry sat up straighter. 

“Yeah, well, if he keeps taking the piss out of you, it’s kind of hard not to.”

“Fuck you. You’re going to bond with Draco over my humiliation?”

“Oi, I didn’t say I was going to _bond_ with him. I just said he might not be such a bad bloke anymore.”

“I’ll take that,” Harry mumbled under his breath. Perhaps there was hope after all.

They worked on separate cases with the Wizarding Wireless Network playing softly in the background. Harry yawned and stretched his arms over his head.

“Ron, how . . . how are wedding plans going?” Harry asked. “Did you pick out your dress robes after I left?”

“Nah. Hermione’s going to drag me back there this weekend, so we can choose them together. In other words, so _she_ can pick them. She gets to choose my clothing, but I don’t get to choose her dress,” Ron scoffed.

“Do you really want to choose her dress?”

“No fucking way. I’d undoubtedly pick out the one thing Hermione would hate,” Ron snickered.

Harry’s mind was elsewhere, however, and his work was slow-going. He tried to concentrate, but finally gave up.

“Ron, how . . .”

“You already asked me about the wedding plans,” Ron reminded him.

“Yeah, but how did you know you wanted to ask Hermione to marry you?”

Ron shrugged. “The time was just right. We’ve been dating for over three years. And we’ve known each other forever, it seems.” He gave a shy smile. “And I’ve been in love with her since I was about twelve or thirteen, I reckon.”

“That young? But you dated Lavender Sixth Year.”

“What was I supposed to do? The girl practically flung herself at me. And I thought maybe it would make Hermione jealous enough to notice me.”

“Oh, she noticed.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know that at the time. I would never have shagged Lav if I thought I had any real chance with Hermione.”

Harry’s eyebrow’s raised. “Sixth Year? You were shagging at sixteen?”

“Everybody was.” Ron paused. “Except you, apparently. And Hermione. And I hope, Ginny. I would have beat Dean to a bloody pulp if I found out.”

“A bit of a double standard, isn’t it Ron?”

“Probably. But, like I said, the girl jumped on me every chance she got.” His face grew pensive. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. She wasn’t a bad sort. She just wasn’t Hermione. I wanted to be with Hermione so badly, I would imagine it was her I was snogging and shagging. Not a very honorable thing to do. I still feel a bit guilty for leading her on.”

“Is that why you were so fired up about me waiting so long to tell Ginny that I’m gay? And not being honest with Draco?”

“Maybe a little. Mainly I didn’t want you to waste time, the way Hermione and I did. When you’re in love, it can be torture or bliss. Sometimes both.” Ron sighed.

“How did you know you were in love?”

“You just _know_.” Ron shrugged.

“Snape wouldn’t accept that explanation,” Harry scoffed.

Ron laughed. “I don’t know. You just can’t imagine _not_ being–” Ron gasped. “Are you in love with Malfoy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I take back the question. And I have one piece of advice for you. If you ever figure out that you are, make sure _he’s_ the first one you tell. Ginny told Hermione that I said I loved her before I got a chance to, and it was not pretty.” Ron wiggled his eyebrows. “But the make-up sex was brilliant.”

Harry blushed. “Sometimes I think I liked it better when the two of you were only pining away for each other.”

“Yeah, well, me too,” Ron mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Harry was quiet for a while. He was fairly certain of Ron’s meaning, but he had to ask.

“So, Ron . . .”

Ron looked up.

“If I _were_ . . . to . . . you know,” Harry took a deep breath, “fall, how would you feel about that?”

“It would be fucking weird.” Ron chuckled. “But maybe not much weirder than you having to listen to me talk about shagging Hermione.”

Harry nodded. At least Ron and Hermione had been friends throughout their years at Hogwarts–even when they were fighting. He suddenly wondered if Ron ever became aroused ‘tussling’ with her. He wasn’t about to ask.

⚯

Later on, in the canteen, Harry was still distracted watching Draco. But Ron was more understanding of his friend.

“You know, we’d get it if you want to sit over there with Malfoy.”

“I don’t want to sit with him.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Ron replied. His tone, however, was light.

“No, really, I don’t. I’m not going to cast you two aside for him.” Harry paused. “And I don’t expect you to accommodate him. Maybe someday you’ll be able to stand having him around and we –”

Harry jumped at the unexpected touch to his shoulder. Draco was whispering in his ear.

“Supper tonight?”

Blushing, Harry answered, “Yeah, okay.”

“Where would you like to go?” asked Draco. “Or we could get takeaway and eat in bed.”

Harry blushed brighter. “Y-yeah, okay,” he stammered.

He stared down at his lunch, unable to meet any of the eyes he was certain were looking at him.

“All right, then. I’ll expect you at six? You bring the takeaway. I’ll provide the bed.”

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. No way was Ron going to let him live this down. Unfortunately, he didn’t see the kiss coming.

“See you tonight,” Draco whispered against his lips.

Harry kept his eyes closed, willing his rising cock to deflate.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry,” Hermione said. “It isn’t as if we didn’t know the two of you are dating.”

“Yes, but now _everyone_ knows.”

“So?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but couldn’t come up with one. “I don’t know. I just wish he didn’t do stuff like that so publicly.”

“Kiss you? I think it’s sort of sweet,” she told him. 

“He didn’t do it to be sweet,” Harry scoffed. “He did it to fluster me.”

“Well, it worked, mate,” Ron snickered.

Harry glared at him.

“If it bothers you so much, ask him to stop,” suggested Hermione.

“That would be like asking him to change his personality. Besides, he’s not like that when we’re alone. I mean, he still teases me, but he’s also . . . very tender.”

Trying to draw attention away from his admission, Harry continued.

“Did I tell you that he took me to a Muggle book shop?”

“Really?” Hermione leaned forward, eager to hear about it.

“You’d love it. It was three stories high. There must have been tens of thousands of books.”

Ron’s brow furrowed. “A Muggle book shop? Why the bloody hell would Malfoy want to go to a Muggle shop?”

“He doesn’t prescribe to the traditional pureblood notions anymore. At least, I don’t think he does. We haven’t talked specifically.”

“But that’s a good sign,” Hermione said. “Isn’t it?”

Harry nodded. “We actually went to three Muggle places. We took a ride on the London Eye.”

“That new ferris wheel?” Hermione questioned. “What was it like?”

Chuckling, Harry answered, “We thought it would be romantic. But with twenty or so other people in the capsule with us, it was decidedly not. But the view of London was spectacular. You and Ron should go sometime.”

“I prefer flying,” Ron said.

Hermione glared at him. Then she turned to Harry. “You said you went to three Muggle places. Where else did you go?”

“To see an opera.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron mumbled.

“What?”

Hermione snorted. “I’ve been asking Ron to attend the opera or ballet with me for ages.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t any more enthusiastic about it than Ron. I actually fell asleep for a bit.” Harry blushed.

“Ha.” Ron grinned.

“I didn’t appreciate it the way Draco did. But . . . he was so moved . . . well, let’s just say I saw a side of him that I never knew was there.” Harry had a far-off look in his eye. “It was so . . .”

Ron and Hermione shared a brief look. She tried to cover her smile with her hand, but he shook his head. 

“Oh, mate. You’re doomed.”


	11. Happy Anniversary

“Harder,” Harry grunted. “I know you can fuck me harder.”

Draco had Harry bent over the arm of the sofa in the sitting room. They had barely made it through the floo coming back from supper before they had stripped down and Draco was inside him.

Harry’s cock swung forcefully with every thrust Draco made. It was full and heavy, and ready to burst. 

Draco’s hands gripped around Harry’s chest tightly while he pushed his hips as hard and quickly as they would move. He was losing his rhythm, as his orgasm was coiling up and ready to explode. 

“Fuck. I’m going to cum.”

“Almost,” Harry panted.

“Fucking wank it. I can’t . . . fuck.” Harry took hold of himself and stroked furiously as Draco cried out.

He came on the side of the sofa only a moment after Draco. They stilled, and Draco draped himself over Harry while they composed themselves.

“Harry, I can’t always simply fuck the cum out of you,” Draco breathed into his ear.

“You seem to be doing a spectacular job so far.” Harry laughed.

“If I had known you like it so rough, I would have made certain I was in better shape before I began to pursue you.”

“Oh, believe me, you are in fine shape.”

They cleaned up and re-dressed, then sat on the sofa.

“Tea?’ Harry offered.

“No, thank you.”

“What do you want to do? It’s still early.”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting that to end quite so quickly.”

Harry gave him a sideways glance. “You don’t like it rough, do you?”

“I wouldn’t say that. And I’m not judging you for liking it that way. However, sometimes I would like to take my time, really get to know your body and what makes you feel most satisfied.”

“I have been more than satisfied. Haven’t you?”

Draco grinned. “Of course. How can I complain about a boyfriend who likes to have sex constantly?”

Slowly, Harry’s smile faded.

“In case you were wondering, I’m glad for it,” Draco assured him. “Perhaps I’ll take tea after all. If you’re still offering.”

“Sure.”

Harry got up to go to the kitchen. Before he got too far, Draco grabbed his hand.

“Don’t be upset with me for wanting a bit of variety. I want to shag you in as many different ways and places as possible. But we don’t have to accomplish all that in a month.”

“When you put it that way, how can I be?”

Harry leaned over and kissed him.

For the rest of the evening, they drank tea and made plans for the weekend. The four week anniversary of their first date was coming up and they wanted to do something special.

“I’d like to take you back to Jolie Sorcière,” proclaimed Draco.

Harry groaned.

“I promise it will end better than the first time,” Draco snickered. “And I really want you to try the lamprey.”

“I knew it.”

“But then you can choose what we do afterward.”

A smile grew on Harry’s face. “Whatever I want, hm?”

“On second thought . . .”

“Too late. You already proposed it. Don’t worry, I’m certain whatever I come up with won’t be as bad as eating eel.”

“It’s eel- _like_. Not quite an eel.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Just be gentle with me.” Draco smirked.

⚯

Harry yawned and rested his chin in his palm. He was too busy in his office to realize he was tired. But down in the canteen, relaxing and eating with his friends, the lack of sleep began to hit him.

“Another late night?” Ron asked. “You have to stop going out on work nights.”

“Don’t you two get together every night?”

Ron shrugged and looked to Hermione. “Yeah. In the beginning we would go out more. Now, we take supper in mostly.”

“Sometime Draco and I get takeaway. But we still wind up staying up until the wee hours–”

“Don’t end that sentence by telling me what you’re doing in those wee hours.”

Harry chuckled. “Talking.”

Ron coughed. “Right.”

“Not always, but last night we were talking about what to do this weekend. On Friday, it will be four weeks since our first official date. He left it to me to come up with something for after supper. But, I’m afraid he won’t like any of the things I can think of.”

“How do you know? Have you asked him?” questioned Hermione.

“Well, I sort of wanted to do something as a surprise. But all the places we usually go aren’t exactly romantic. I’ve never had a boyfriend to plan for.”

“What sorts of things did you do with Ginny?” she asked.

Harry pursed his lips.

“I only meant that perhaps you could start with things you planned to do with her. Just to get some ideas.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t a very romantic boyfriend,” Harry admitted. “A lot of the time we’d walk around Hogsmeade, or picnic by a lake. But it’s too cold to picnic. Besides, Draco is completely different from Ginny. He’s accustomed to the finer things.”

Ron frowned.

“You know what I mean,” Harry continued. “It’s not a mark against Ginny. But we did simpler things. Neither one of us had a great deal of extra money. And we both grew up modestly.”

“But isn’t that a concern?” Hermione asked. “You and Malf–I suppose I should start getting used to calling him Draco. The two of you are so different.”

“On the surface, perhaps,” Harry conceded. “But we’ve been sharing our interests with each other. He’s taking me back to that French restaurant on Friday. It’s up to me to plan afterward.”

“What about the cinema?”

“I thought about that. There isn’t anything playing in theaters that I think Draco would enjoy. I want his first experience with Muggle films to be good enough to want to do it again.”

“Why don’t you bring him to Ron’s flat and we can choose something you think he will enjoy.”

Both Ron and Harry stared at Hermione in disbelief.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Ron asked.

“Well, I _am_ marrying you,” she retorted.

“Hermione, I know you mean well,” Harry began, “but I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

She sighed. “You’ve been dating a month and yet you haven’t made any effort to get us all together. I’ve barely had any interactions with him.”

“I’ve only had a few, but they were civil enough,” Ron said.

“Then it’s about time, Harry. If you plan on having all of us in your life, we’ll have to spend time together.” She paused. “Oh, unless you’ve already asked him and he refused.”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I haven’t asked him. Frankly, I’m a bit nervous about how you will all get along. Draco and I have talked about a lot of the things that happened between us when we were young. We’ve worked through it because, well, we were highly motivated.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione’s brow furrowed.

“They wanted to have sex,” Ron said.

Harry glared. “He _wanted_ me to like him. And I wanted him to be my boyfriend. It would be kind of hard to have that if we couldn’t get past our history of bad blood. I’m worried you won’t be able to do that.”

Still blushing from Ron’s comment, Hermione said, “We never will if you don’t give us a chance.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know what I’ll do if you can’t.”

He certainly didn’t want to find out. He couldn’t give up Draco before they even had a chance at a real romance. Of course, he could never even think about giving up on his best friends, without whom he knew he wouldn’t even be alive. Keeping up with both sides separately sounded exhausting.

Later on, back in their office, Harry decide to bring up Hermione’s proposal to Ron alone.

“I’ve been wondering,” Harry said. “What do you think of Hermione’s idea? Is it completely barmy?”

Ron opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“I want to know what you think. Not what you think I want to hear.”

“Yeah, me inviting Draco Malfoy to my flat to watch Muggle films is right barmy.” He sighed. “But, inviting my best friend and his boyfriend to my flat so we can all get to know each other better might not be the worst idea.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered. “Mm, but maybe not Friday since we’re celebrating an anniversary of sorts. Are you two busy Saturday? I may have to use all my wiles to sweet talk Draco into coming. Better make Friday night memorable.”

“Have you figured out where to take him?”

Harry nodded. “The Blue Wiz.”

“That new music club? Have you been there?”

“It isn’t that new. But yeah, I’ve gone there a couple of times. Draco thinks wizarding music is lacking. I want to show him that young witches and wizards are much more progressive musically nowadays.”

“No Celestina Warbeck, then?”

Harry laughed. “No. She’s a bit old fashioned. I’ve seen some very good bands at the Blue Wiz. My favorites are the jazz trios.”

“Trios of what?”

“Instruments. You know, bass, piano and drums. I’m hoping Draco likes it, since he enjoys other types of Muggle music.”

“That’s still a mind fuck to me, that Malfoy enjoys anything Muggle.”

“He’s changed. He isn’t at all like the person we knew in school. Sometimes I forget that we ever hated each other. Well, I would if Draco would stop bringing it up.” Harry sighed. “I just want to move forward, which is why I want to take him someplace new to build new memories.”

Ron nodded. “Good idea. Maybe that would work for all of us.”

⚯

Harry noticed Draco’s eyes dart around the club.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“It’s . . . rather busy in here.”

“Oh, well, it just seems like a lot of people because it’s a small venue.”

“No, I mean the decor. What is the purpose of hanging instruments on the wall? How are they going to play them?”

“They’re only there for decoration. Muggle clubs and restaurants are decked out this way.” Harry pointed. “There are autographed pictures of the bands that have played here, and other memorabilia. It adds to the ambience.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “The ambience?”

“I’m not completely uncultured. Don’t you like it?”

“I find it distracting.”

Harry grinned. “I find _you_ distracting.”

“Yes. We’d established that on our first date.”

They snacked on vol-au-vents and butter beer while they awaited the first act. Harry had explained that this night they would listen to a variety of performers. Fashioned after Muggle open-mike night, wizard amateur musicians and singers were to entertain with a song or two, then make way for the next performer. When the house lights dimmed, Harry settled into his chair, leaning against Draco’s shoulder. He couldn’t help grin as he felt Draco’s arm drape over him.

The first artist was a witch who played piano and sang. Harry didn’t think she was particularly talented and he worried that Draco was as bored as Harry had been at the opera.

“The other acts will probably be better,” Harry said into Draco’s ear. “I’ve never seen her before.”

The next act was a trio comprised of a double bass, a piano and saxophone. Harry found himself tapping his toe and bobbing his head to the music. Unfortunately, they had to leave the stage after only two songs.

For the following two hours, various performers played or sang to the cheers of the audience. Modern Muggle jazz music was a hit among the young wizarding crowd.

Throughout the evening, Harry felt the need to apologize for acts he thought were sub-par. He didn’t want Draco to lose interest, and tried to assure him there would be better music coming up.

Draco turned to Harry. “Did you hear me making excuses for the opera during which you fell asleep?”

“Huh?”

“I can decide for myself whether or not I like this music. I don’t need you to tell me which is good and which is bad.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted you you to enjoy it as much as I do. I was hoping this could be a place to come for dates.” Harry paused. “Speaking of places to go . . .”

“Hm, that sounds ominous.” Draco waited for Harry to explain.

“Well, as long as I’m taking you to places you don’t like, I may as well tell you now. We’ve been invited to Ron’s flat tomorrow night.”

Draco merely raised an eyebrow.

“Actually, it was Hermione’s idea. But I think it’s important that you all spend time getting to know each other.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“There are going to be times when you’ll want both me and your best friends present. I’d rather not wait until a significant occasion to have that awkward first get-together.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry said. “Does that mean you’ll go?”

“Yes. And I’ll even behave. Mostly.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t want you to behave. I want you to be yourself.”

“In that case . . .”

Draco leaned in closely and captured Harry’s lips with his own. When a young woman began singing a slow, sultry tune, the moment was perfect.

“This would be great sex music,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear. “I wish I could get away with climbing on top of you here and now.”

Harry shuddered. “I’m ready to go. You?”

“Right behind you. No pun intended.” Draco laughed.

⚯

Harry’s hips rose to meet Draco’s as they rocked the bed with a steady rhythm. Though quite different from the jazz sung in the club, Harry’s moans were music to Draco’s ears.

“I love fucking those sounds out of you,” he breathed.

“I love the way you fuck me.”

They’d been at it a while, trying to draw out the pleasure the other provided. Even moving slowly, they were nearing their climaxes. Harry had been leisurely stroking himself, but now felt the urge to pump harder.

Without a word, they gazed into each other’s eyes. Harry gasped when he came, but held Draco’s stare. While Draco continued to thrust into him, Harry ran his hands over his body.

“You’re so perfect.”

Draco couldn’t help chuckling. “You never thought so when we were younger.”

“You didn’t fuck me when we were younger. You can go harder. I want you to come. I want to watch your face while you cum in my arse.”

Draco sped up, grunting as he did. He came whispering Harry’s name, then kissed him.

“I can see the appeal of taking things slowly,” Harry said. “I’m glad it’s Friday, though. It’s so late.”

“We can sleep in tomorrow morning and do it all over again.”

Harry laughed. “And you said _I_ wanted to have sex constantly.”

“What can I say? I find you irresistible.”

“Likewise.” Harry tried to extricate himself in order to clean up, but Draco held him tight.

“I have something to say.”

“All right.” Harry had difficulty reading Draco’s expression.

“When I took the job at the Ministry, I imagined things going far differently than they have.”

“What did you think would happen?”

“I thought I would quietly do my job, hopefully move up a few rungs on the ladder, and be largely ignored by the general staffers and administration.”

“Oh.” Harry’s brow furrowed. He thought perhaps Draco had something more personal to say.

“I’ve had very few friends I haven’t bought in some way or another,” Draco continued. “Blaise and Pansy are the only ones I didn’t need to bribe or manipulate. Although, I admit to leading her on.”

“Okay.” Harry still wasn’t certain where he was going.

“I have a habit of assuming the worst of people. Or perhaps myself.” He chuckled. “So, I exploit people’s weaknesses to get what I want. The way I did with you.”

“Draco, you didn’t–”

“I’m trying to be honest here, Harry. You should do the same. I challenged you, dared you, humiliated you–anything I had to. I’m very good at making it seem as though I’m the innocent. But, the reality is that I manipulated you into my bed. And the fact that I did it because I genuinely wanted you so badly doesn’t justify my behavior.”

“I could have walked away at any time,” Harry pointed out.

“Could you? Did I leave you that option? Knowing that you never back down from a challenge?”

“You think I’m here because of pride?”

This time, Draco let Harry out of his grip.

“Perhaps you don’t know me quite as well as you think you do,” Harry said. “I’ve done things I didn’t want to do for a lot of reasons. I confronted Voldemort. I fought in battles. I participated in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But I did those things for what I thought was the greater good. I didn’t do them to satisfy my ego, or to keep from looking like a coward. And that’s not why I agreed to give it a go with you. In fact, it was Ron who convinced me I was being cowardly by _not_ going out with you.”

“A different sort of challenge.”

“No. Not a challenge at all. He just helped me admit how I feel about you.”

“Which is?”

Harry caressed Draco’s cheek. “How I’ve never felt about anyone else. I enjoy the time we spend together, especially the shagging. But even when we’re not . . . I like you much more than I thought possible.”

Draco smiled, seeming relieved. “I’m glad. I don’t know if I’d be able to take it if you didn’t truly want to be here.”

“I do,” Harry said. “But what made you bring it up now? We’ve been together a month. Wasn’t that long enough to convince you that I truly want to be here?”

“Like I said, I have a habit of assuming the worst. Usually when I’m feeling most vulnerable.”

Harry leaned forward, kissing Draco in a way he hoped conveyed all his desires for the former Slytherin.

“Harry?” Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s and closed his eyes.

“Hmm?”

Draco whispered, “I love you.”

Harry’s reply was a kiss that started their lovemaking all over again.


	12. Bring on the fire whisky

“Are you certain I look all right?” Draco asked, glancing down his own body. “Shouldn’t I at least wear a tie?”

“You look amazing. And we regular blokes wear jeans or trackies outside of work. Consider yourself lucky I let you wear your suit trousers.” Harry took Draco by the hand. “Ron and Hermione aren’t going to care what you’re wearing. They want to get to know you, the way I do.”

Raising an eyebrow, Draco replied, “All right. But I really have no idea how to make Hermione cum.”

Before Harry could react, the door opened to reveal the pair of Harry’s friends smiling nervously. They looked to Harry, puzzled.

“Are you feeling well?” Hermione asked. “Harry, you look flushed.”

“I-I’m fine,” he stammered.

Without missing a beat, Draco held out his hand. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Ron shook his hand first, assuming his fiancé wasn’t ready for physical contact with the man who verbally tortured her throughout her years at Hogwarts. 

“Uh, welcome,” Ron said, though it came out sounding more like a question.

He and Hermione moved out of the way to allow Harry and Draco inside. Starting out rather stilted, it took the better part of an hour for conversation to flow fairly freely. And that was mainly thanks to Harry and Ron. 

Hermione had prepared several types of starters for them to snack on while they watched an animated Muggle film. Harry smiled to himself as he observed Draco’s wonder at the film.

“Are all Muggle films like this?” Draco asked at one point. “How do they get all of the drawings to move without magic?”

“The drawings don’t actually move,” Hermione explained. “The animators create thousands of drawings, then film them individually frame by frame. Then when the film is played, it looks as though the characters are moving. I believe it takes years to make a full length film like this one. Although, nowadays, they use computers to help with the animation.”

“Computers. What are computers?”

The others laughed at Draco’s ignorance, but Harry tried to describe the technology as best he could.

“This one’s all right,” Ron added. “But action films are the best. My favorite was The Fast and the Furious. I would love to be able to drive a car like that.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, “There are so many different types of films. You should let Harry take you to the cinema sometime.”

“See?” Harry said to Draco. “Even they think you should go with me.”

Giving Harry a side-eye, Draco confessed, “Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing you could drag me to.”

Throughout the rest of the film, Harry’s grin had nothing to do with the action on the telly. His friends and his lover were tolerating each other well, and Draco had practically agreed to go out to the cinema for a date. He even heard Draco compliment Hermione’s cooking, which she graciously accepted.

After the film, Ron broke out the fire whisky, while Draco helped Hermione bring dirty dishes into the kitchen.

“I thought we’d need this a lot earlier,” Ron said as he downed a shot.

“I think it’s going very well. Don’t you?” asked Harry.

“Considering.”

“Considering what?”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “Considering how Malfoy used to be. You have to admit, Harry, he was a total prat.”  
Pursing his lips, Harry couldn’t quite disagree.

“But, for what it’s worth, I think he has changed quite a bit. He’s been nothing but nice. He even seems to have given you a break from teasing.”

“I know. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Harry laughed. He glanced toward the short hall leading to the kitchen. “Do you think they’re all right?”

“Hermione isn’t one to take shite from anyone, especially not him, anymore. And I highly doubt she’d start anything herself. Come on, have a shot or two with me.” Ron held out a filled shot glass.

They downed a few as they sat on the sofa, discussing George’s proposal that Ron partner up with him. Ron confided that he hadn’t yet brought it up to Hermione.

hdhdhdhd

“Thank you,” Hermione said to Draco as he placed some plates and a bowl in the sink. “It’s really not necessary though. You should go back to the sitting room with the boys.”

“I will. But, first I’d like to talk to you.”

Hermione turned. What could he possibly want to talk to her about?

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” He paused when she seemed to have no clue what he was apologizing for. “I treated you horribly when we were young. I just want–

“To apologize? Do you really think saying you’re sorry makes it better?”

Draco blinked. “Well, I-I thought . . .”

“Do you have any idea how you made people feel?”

“I have some inkling.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you do.”

“Sorry?”

“Every time I saw you coming the opposite way, I’d brace myself for a comment. I’d worry you’d send a hex, however innocuous, my way. I had to listen to you belittle my friends. Harry was able to stand up to you. But not Neville, or some of the younger students.”

“I know.” Draco lowered his gaze. 

“But you don’t know,” she said. “If you’re going to apologize, I want you know what you’re apologizing for. You and the other Death Eaters made our lives hell. I lost many friends. We almost lost Harry. You helped cause the destruction of Hogwarts. And you walked away unscathed because you switched sides at the last minute. But you did it to save yourselves.”

“Unscathed? Do you have any idea what _I_ went through? I lost one of my best friends, too. My home was taken over by The Dark Lord himself. I was forced to torture–”

“You tortured someone? And you want to clear you conscience with an apology to me? Is it only because I’m Harry’s friend, and you want to get in his good books?”

“No, I . . . I’m truly sorry.”

Hermione turned away, gazing out the small kitchen window that looked out onto the London night sky.

“Saying you’re sorry is easy,” she said softly. “It’s your actions, though, that give your words weight. I heard you sat languishing in Malfoy Manor until Shacklebolt called on you. You got a second chance and were content to waste it. So many good people won’t get that chance–Fred, Sirius, young Colin Creevey, Lavender, Professor Snape, Professor Lupin, and Tonks, your own cousin. Gone, because people like you thought they were better than m _udbloods_. Every one of those people, and countless more, were important to someone. They’re missed dearly by their families and friends. Teddy has no parents because of a purposeless war. Have you apologized to him? Do you even care that he’s your family? That you’re one of the few family members he has left? You have your parents safely in their Manor. You can see them anytime you wish.” Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I would give _anything_ for Ron to be able to see his brother even one more time.”

Hermione sighed deeply. She didn’t intend to off on a tirade against Draco. She really did want to put the past behind her so Harry could be happy with the man he chose. Even if it was someone Hermione wouldn’t have chosen for him. Her regret was short-lived as her diatribe didn’t seem to evoke any response from Draco.

Turning to berate him once again for his insensitivity, she was surprised to find him struggling to hold himself together.

His face wet, he murmured, “I’m sorry.” 

Before she could say anything else, he disapparated.

“Wait!”

Hearing Hermione shout in the kitchen, Harry and Ron rushed in.  
“Are you all right?” Ron asked.

“Where’s Draco?” was all Harry wanted to know.

“What did he do to you?” Ron demanded as he wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry Harry. I didn’t mean for him to leave,” she said.

“Hermione, what happened?”

“He tried to apologize for bullying me at Hogwarts.”

“Tried?”

“He did apologize,” she admitted. “But it was too easy. I couldn’t help myself. I told him just how he made me feel. But more than that, I wanted him to know the consequences of the beliefs that made him hate me. I wanted him to know the pain we felt, we still feel, from losing our friends and family, while he still has his.”

“And what did he do to you?” Ron asked.

“Nothing. He simply listened. But when I turned around . . . I think he was crying. Oh Harry, I’m sorry. I thought, if anything, he would defend himself or try to justify . . .”

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. He only said he was sorry, then disapparated.”

“I’ve got to go,” Harry said. 

Ron grabbed his arm. “Mate, maybe you ought to give him some space.”

“No. I’ve got to fix this. Why wouldn’t you just let him apologize to you, Hermione? Why did you have to go and ruin it?”

“Harry, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Mione,” Ron said. “You had every right to speak your mind.”

Harry threw his arms in the air. “I thought you wanted me to go out with Draco. Now you sound like you’re happy Hermione ran him off.”

“I’m not happy she ran him off. And it’s not her fault that he can’t handle the truth. If he’s truly sorry for what he’s done, he should face up to it. Besides, you said he said it was good to talk it out.” 

Placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, Harry said, “Ron’s right. It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have blamed you. But I do want to go to his flat.”

“I understand. I said things I’ve wanted to say to him but I never thought I’d have the chance. I suppose I sort of blindsided him when he was probably expecting me to accept his apology.”

“But, will you?” Harry asked. “Will you ever accept it?”

She nodded. “I think I will. I think it’s the only way to move forward.”

Harry sighed and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

hdhdhdhd

Draco either wasn’t home, or simply wasn’t answering. Harry tried to think of where else Draco may have gone. He might have gone to see Blaise, but Harry had no idea where he lived. On second thought, Draco described Blaise as a bit of a player. He would most likely be on the prowl on a Saturday night.

Harry could think of another place Draco was likely to go. And he briefly considered owling or even visiting Narcissa Malfoy. But in the end, he decided to take Ron’s advice and give Draco some time and space–and hope it wasn’t a mistake.

Sunday morning Harry awoke to an owl pecking at his bedroom window. Yawning, he got out of bed and retrieved a treat from the stash on his dresser. He had learned long ago not every delivery owl was completely tame. And it was better to have one of them nip at a treat than his fingers.

This owl, however, was patient, and gently took the treat from Harry while he untied a small scroll from its talon.

Harry unrolled the parchment and read.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out. Sorry. D.”

He crumpled up the paper and tossed it.

“Is that what you think?” he said to no one. “I’m not going to let you off that easy.”

Quickly changing into jeans and a fresh t-shirt, Harry patted his hair down as best he could, then disapparated to Draco’s neighborhood.

He looked up at the building wondering if he should go in and knock on Draco’s door, or simply try to apparate in. Thinking Draco may not appreciate the intrusion, Harry opted to go the old-fashioned, Muggle route.

He knocked several times before calling out.

“Draco, are you there? Let me in.”

Harry listened carefully with his ear pressed against the door. There were subtle shuffling sounds that could have been an owl in a cage. But then he was certain he heard footsteps creaking on the wooden floor.

“Open the door, Draco. I can hear you in there.”

There was an audible, resigned sigh just before the door opened.

“Didn’t you get my owl?” Draco asked.

“Of course. That’s why I’m here. You don’t seriously think you’re going to get rid of me that easily, do you?”

“I’m not getting rid of you. I’m trying to do the right thing. It’s been pointed out that I haven’t always done that.”

“By Hermione?”

“Among others.”

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“I’m sure Granger already told you.”

“I want to hear your side.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “Oh, I assumed you would take her word as the truth.”

“I do,” Harry said. “From _her_ point of view. I want to hear your point of view. So tell me what happened in the kitchen. What made you leave and think you and I should break up?”

Draco stood a moment, then opened the door wider for Harry to enter. He gestured to a small sofa. After Harry sat, he did as well.

“I apologized to Granger for the things I said and did to her when we were at Hogwarts. But she wouldn’t accept it. Not that I truly blame her for that. But then she told me I couldn’t possibly understand what she, and the others I tormented, had gone through.”

“She was only airing out her feelings,” Harry told him.

“She was right,” Draco said. “How can you expect her to accept me as a friend after the way I treated her?”

“Hermione is a very forgiving person. It’s been over three years since the war. And she works with two former Death Eaters.”

“Harry, I know you want to believe she can forgive us–me in particular. But the irony of the Muggle film we watched wasn’t lost on me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Please,” Draco rolled his eyes, “don’t feign ignorance. It was a metaphor. I’m a beast. And you’re the beauty that I’ve inexplicably won over, and don’t deserve.”

“That’s not true. That film just happens to be Hermione’s favorite. And besides, if either of us is a beauty, it’s you–impossibly shiny hair, alabaster skin, lithe body. And absolutely perfect pink cock.”

“You exaggerate. Except my cock. That _is_ perfect.”

They both laughed a little, even though they both thought it was true.

“And I think you missed the point of the story. Everyone may have thought he was a beast, but he had a heart of gold deep inside.” Harry took one of Draco’s hands. “In all seriousness though. You can’t tell me you love me one day, then cut me loose the next. Hermione will come round. And Ron has already made it clear that he supports us being together. He may not completely understand it, but he wants me to be happy.”

“He wants _you_ to be happy.”

“Believe it or not, Ron gave me a bit of shite for stringing you along. He said you deserved to be treated fairly.”

“He said that?”  
“More or less. Anyway, it’s partly thanks to him that we’re together. So, he doesn’t want to break us up. Neither does Hermione. It just may take her a while to get to the point when she can call you friend.”  
“That’s more than I could hope for.”

“It shouldn’t be. You’ve changed and you deserve the same as everyone else.” Harry leaned forward to kiss Draco. “So, no more talk about this not working out before we even give it a real chance. In fact, no more talking at all.”

Harry tugged at Draco’s shirt until they ended up lying on the sofa and making love straight through lunch.

hdhdhdhd

Monday seemed much the same as any other Monday. Harry arrived at work, chatted Ron up for a bit, then got to some paperwork. Come lunch time, they sat at their usual table in the canteen with Hermione, Mathilde and Robert. Harry glanced at over to see Draco with his own established set of table mates.

“You patched things with Draco I assume?” Hermione questioned.

Harry nodded. “He tried to break it off, but I told him I wasn’t giving up that easily. I may have hinted that you would see your way clear to forgive him eventually.”

She pursed her lips, but she had already told Harry she would forgive him for Harry’s sake.

“He’s coming over,” Harry whispered.

Draco nodded a greeting at the table. “Supper tonight, Harry?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Brilliant. The Leaky Cauldron?”

Harry blinked. “Oh, okay.”

“See you at the floos after work. Enjoy your lunches,” he addressed the rest of the table, nodded again, then walked away.

“Something wrong, Harry?” Hermione rested her hand on his arm.

His brow furrowed. “I guess I was expecting him to try and apologize to you again.”

“Maybe it isn’t the sort of thing he wants to do with an audience.”

“You’re probably right,” Harry agreed. “But when he does, you’ll accept it this time, right?”

“Of course.”

Harry bit his lip. “I want this to work. I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. It won’t work if you all don’t get along.”

“You can’t force it though,” Ron said.

“I know. I just . . . maybe we could plan another evening together.”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

“Do you think that’s a good idea, mate? I mean, you don’t want him to feel coerced. Give him some time.”

Nodding his head, Harry knew Ron was right. He glanced at Robert and Mathilde across the table and blushed. He hadn’t meant to sound so desperate in front of coworkers. At least they had the decency to pretend Harry wasn’t acting like a besotted school girl.

hdhdhdhd

“Is your food unappetizing?” Draco asked Harry.

“Um, no. It’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“Oh.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” Then Harry realized his brow was drawn. He made a conscious effort at a pleasant expression. “No, nothing’s wrong. What do you want to do this weekend?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Do you have anything in mind?” Draco cut a piece of his beef roast and placed it in his mouth.

Trying to sound casual, Harry said, “You said you would go to the Muggle cinema with me sometime. Maybe we could, um, double date with Ron and Hermione. How about Saturday?”

“Saturday evening perhaps. I have plans during the day.”

“What? What plans? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to go.”

“Well, I do.”

Draco snickered. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m going to see Mother and Father,” Draco told him. “Still want to come?”

“Oh.” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t hold you to it.” Draco smirked. “But really, Harry, I feel that something is wrong. Or at the very least, you’re distracted.”

Harry put his fork down. “You’re going to try, aren’t you? With Ron and Hermione, I mean.”

“Of course. If you’ll recall, I _did_ try. Why are you questioning my motives now?”

“I’m not questioning your motives. But I can’t help worry that if the three of you don’t come to some sort of understanding . . .”

“And what about _my_ friends?”

“Which friends? The ones you sit with at lunch? I’d be happy to meet them.”

“No, I mean Blaise and Pansy.’”

“Blaise and Pansy?” Harry hadn’t particularly given them any thought. 

“Will you make an effort to be friendly with them? There may be occasions for you to be social with them.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

Shrugging, Draco replied, “Balls, coming out parties, holidays, weddings.”

Harry stared at him blankly.

“I may have turned my back on the notion that purebloods are better than Muggle borns, but my family is still upper class. My parents, having been overtly involved with the Dark Lord, are no longer invited to such events. I, however, am expected to attend. Preferably with my handsome beau by my side, as well as Pansy and Blaise.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize. Of course I’ll go with you to those things, if you really want. I suppose it’s only fair. I’d probably need new robes, though. What are you grinning about?”

Draco reached across the table to take hold of Harry’s hand. “You have no idea what it means to me that you’re willing to attend endlessly dull and stuffy galas for my sake. But I was joking. I don’t want to attend those _things_ , as you put it, any more than you do. Weddings can’t be helped. Most of my cousins and second cousins on my father’s side are of marrying age.”

“Then, were you also kidding about Blaise and Pansy?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Actually, there’s quite a bit of inter-marrying among purebloods. Pansy, Blaise and I all share multiple family members. Besides, they’re fun. I think you’d like them if you got to know them.”

Harry pursed his lips. “Pansy was ready to throw me to the wolves during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“And I did and said horrible things to Hermione and Ron, and you. You forgave me.” Draco paused and frowned. “Haven’t you?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“Then I’m certain you’ll find your way clear to forgive Pans.”

Narrowing his eyes at Draco, Harry said, “You tricked me with that one.” But then he smiled. “I guess I’ve been so concerned with you getting on with my friends, I haven’t considered how I’d get on with yours.”

“Imagine the scandal when our friends all get together,” Draco teased.

“It’ll happen eventually. I hope. So, are you really visiting your parents on Saturday?”

“I am. But I’m available later that night. And Sunday. Why don’t we have a late supper and you can take me to that Muggle cinema.”

“All right.”

Harry picked up his fork and started eating again. Ron was right earlier, he couldn’t force his friends and his lover into a friendship. He hoped it would happen soon. In the meantime, he would enjoy Draco’s company instead of obsessing over their future.


	13. Pay it Forward

“I thought about you all day,” Draco groaned.

“Was I doing this when you were thinking about me?” Harry swirled his tongue over the head of Draco’s cock.

“And more.”

The remnants of their Valentine’s Day takeaway, along with a few token gifts, lay on the floor while the men occupied the bed.

“Don’t bring me too close. I don’t want to burst the moment my cock touches your arse,” Draco said.

“I could stop now if you’d like,” Harry teased.

“Don’t you dare.”

Harry worshipped Draco’s cock with kisses, licks, and nibbles. Enough to pleasure, but not enough to satisfy. Harry's cock was firmly gripped by his own hand. When he could no longer stand the wait, he straddled Draco’s lap.

“Do the spell,” he commanded. It had become more efficient to learn a quick spell than to manually spread the lube and prepare himself. Though, occasionally, Draco still enjoyed using his fingers on him.

In no time, Harry was raising and lowering himself on Draco’s cock.

“Oh Harry, you feel fantastic.”

“Mmm. You too.” 

Though most of his past lovers had expected him to be a top, Harry had always preferred to assume the role of bottom. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to be in control. But the stigma of that role sometimes made him feel obligated to acquiesce to his lovers’ wishes and let them take control. The trust he and Draco had built over the previous six weeks had put them on equal footing. It gave Harry the confidence to ask for what he wanted.

That night though, Harry took his time, the way he knew Draco favored.

Draco’s hands slowly roamed over Harry’s chest and arms, exploring every muscle and crevice.Looking down on his lover, Harry caressed his face. He’d never seen such an expression of adoration on any of his partners’ faces. 

Thinking about it, Harry decided it wasn’t adoration. That look, he _had_ seen in others’ eyes. But they were fans, not friends or lovers. What he saw in Draco’s eyes reflected the words he said to Harry the night they went to The Blue Wiz. Words Harry was still reluctant to acknowledge. And definitely hesitant to reciprocate. For now, both of them seemed content with the status quo. And Harry was going to enjoy it as long as possible.

hdhdhdhd

The following week, Harry was frustrated by what he saw as a lack of progress regarding the relationship between his friends and Draco. Draco had not offered another apology and Harry feared there was an expiration on Hermione’s acceptance. 

When Draco stopped by Harry’s table in the canteen to make plans for supper, Harry tried subtly gesturing towardHermione with his head.

“Have you acquired a tick?” Draco asked.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out why your head is bobbling about.”  
Harry sighed. “Don’t you have something to say to Hermione?”

Draco turned to her. “Actually, yes, I do. Thank you.”

With a furrowed brow, she replied, “You’re welcome?”

“I meant an apology,” Harry clarified.

“Oh, but a thank you is so much more appropriate,” Draco told him. “I’ve apologized more in the past few years than I ever did in the previous seventeen. And it hasn’t helped anyone. Harry, you told me that you _show_ you’re sorry by not repeating the behavior. I haven’t repeated the atrocious behavior of my youth, and yet, Granger didn’t forgive me on the spot. Instead, she accused me of wasting my second chance.”

Harry turned and glared at Hermione.

Draco continued. “She was right. My apologies are worth shit, regardless that they’ve been heartfelt. And I’ve come to realize that my own suffering during the war didn’t lessen anyone else’s. It was punishment. I have no problem accepting that. The problem I have is proving my contrition. I thought somehow working for the Ministry would do that. But, really, working here has been somewhat self-serving. And so, it doesn’t count.”

“What are you on about Draco?” Harry asked. He thought Draco had spent much more time psychoanalyzing the situation than was warranted. He just wanted Draco to say he was sorry so Hermione would accept and then they could become friends.

“I’ve spent the past few weeks at the Manor encouraging my mother to repair her relationship with her remaining sister.”

“What does that have to do with calling Hermione a mudblood?” Ron asked.

“Nothing.”

“Then what–

“I’m paying it forward. I can’t bring back any of the people who died at the hands of Death Eaters, like Ron’s brother . . .”

“But you can give Andromeda her sister back,” Harry finished. “I know how much that will mean to her.”

“And I am by no means a suitable substitute for Teddy’s parents, but as his only magical cousin, I can provide some guidance. At the very least I’m an example of how _not_ to behave,” Draco chuckled.

Hermione stood and held out her hand. “Apology accepted. And, um, offered . . . for things I did to you at Hogwarts.”

Draco took the hand. “Such as a swift right hook?”

Hermione blushed slightly, but Ron said, “Yeah, that was bloody brilliant. I wish I’d done it.”

Everyone paused to look at him.

“Back then,” Ron clarified. “Not _now_.”

Draco chuckled. “In a way, I wish you’d done it too. When I told my father, hoping to get Granger in trouble, he hit me harder than she did. He wasn’t about to go to the Headmaster to say his sissy son was put in his place by a filthy mudblood witch. That’s what he said. Not my way of thinking anymore.” He shook his head. “I didn’t tell you that to garner any sympathy. Most of the time my father spoiled me.”

“I always wondered why you didn’t tell Dumbledore,” Hermione mused.

“Yes, it was one of the few time I may have had a legitimate claim. But I knew my father wouldn’t be pleased. Unfortunately, getting punched by a girl didn’t teach me anything.”

“Well, you’ve learned now,” Harry said.

“Pride goeth before a fall.” Draco smirked. “How proud I was. And now I’m working my way up from the bottom of the Ministry.”

“Loads of people have to start at the bottom,” Ron reminded him.

“I lost connections, status, possessions. I don’t earn nearly what my monthly allowance would have been. And my entire flat could fit inside my bedroom at the Manor, with room to spare. But I’m not complaining.” Draco reached out and caressed Harry’s cheek. “I have so much more now than I ever did.”

Harry rose to his feet and kissed Draco, prompting others in the canteen to catcall and whistle. Harry tried to pull away but Draco held tight.

“They’ve already seen, Harry. Stopping now won’t convince anybody you’re not mine,” Draco said against his lips. He gave one last swipe of his tongue across his mouth before releasing him.

“Remember, Potter, you kissed me first.”

“As I recall, you kissed _me_ first. After our supper date that wasn’t a date.”

Draco blushed at the memory. “What can I say? You charmed me so much I forgot myself. Best move I ever made.”

Robert and Mathilde stood to clear their trays, signaling the end of lunch time.

“Well, I should be getting back to work if I’m going to work my way up through the ranks,” Draco said.

As Harry stood dreamily watching his lover leave, he heard Ron laugh. “What?”

“I was just wondering if I look that stupid when I’m watching Hermione.”

“As a matter of fact, you do.”

Laughing again, Ron said, “Glad I’m not the only fool in love.”

“We’ve been dating two months,” Harry said.

“And you don’t think that’s long enough to know you’re in love?”

“I _like_ him very much.”

“Okay,” Ron chuckled.

“Ron.” Hermione nudged him. “Leave him alone. I think it’s good they’re taking their time.”

“So, does that mean you approve?” Harry asked. “You’ll try to become friends?”

“Of course we’ll try, Harry.”

He walked away feeling hopeful about a future with both Draco and his friends in his life.

Hermione turned to Ron. “Why were you goading him?”

“I wasn’t goading. I was just taking the piss. You think he hasn’t ribbed me about you? I’m trying to save him some time, considering how much we wasted not admitting our feelings.”

“But it’s not the same. You didn’t have to choose between me and Harry. Harry isn’t certain he won’t have to choose between us and Draco. There’s probably a part of him that’s holding back–to save him from heartache down the road.”

“You know as well as I do it’s too late. They spend all their free time together and he talks all about Malfoy when they’re not together. And when he’s not talking about him, he’s daydreaming with a goofy look on his face.”

“Then the only solution is for us to become friends with Draco.”

“Yeah,” Ron sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

hdhdhdhd

“More pie and mash?” Harry asked.

He and Draco sat across from one another at the small table in Draco’s studio flat.

“Thank you, no.” Draco held up his hand. “Where did you pick this up? It was delicious, but I’m full. I may have to digest awhile before I ravish you tonight.”

“Oh, I made it myself,” Harry told him, ignore the comment about ravishing him.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Well, _most_ of it. I bought a ready-made dough and the pork was already cooked. But I boiled the potatoes, put the pies together and baked them. And I picked up some Eton mess.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you trying to butter me up.”

“I want to treat you well. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Of course not. I enjoy being treated well.” Draco stared Harry in the eye until Harry had to look away from the intensity–as if he could see right through him.

“So, um, you’ve been to see Teddy Lupin?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t mention it.”

Dabbing at his mouth, Draco smiled. The same dazzling smile that got Harry on their supper date that wasn’t a date.

“You don’t like that I didn’t tell you,” Draco surmised. “I thought about it, but if things hadn’t worked out, you would have been disappointed. And I really don’t want to disappoint you.”

“I haven’t been disappointed by you.”

“Give it time.”

Harry chuckled. “I’ve been annoyed, surprised, satisfied and cheesed off by you. But never disappointed. I think the only thing that would disappoint me is if you didn’t pay attention to me.”

“You’re annoyed then.”

“I love that you’re connecting with Teddy and Andromeda. I just wish I had known. I could have helped.”

“It was something Mother and I had to do on our own. It was something we should have done a long time ago, without being shamed into it,” Draco said.

“The important thing is that you’re doing it now. And . . . how is it going?”

“Well. Mother and Andromeda have had tea several times. It was a bit awkward at first. But they’ve managed to do some catching up while avoiding Andromeda’s banishment.”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I meant with Teddy.”

Draco shrugged. “The boy is only three or four. I’m not particularly good with children. He’s a bit exhausting actually.”

“He enjoys sport. You could toss a ball with him. Or play board games.”

“We don’t have those sorts of things at the Manor.” Draco paused. “How do you know he enjoys sport?”

“He’s my Godson. I visit with him about once a month. You didn’t know?”

Shaking his head, Draco replied, “No. Andromeda never said anything about you. But why would she? She doesn’t know about you and I, does she?”

“Then that means they truly want to mend your relationship. It has nothing to do with me. I was afraid . . .”

“You were afraid what?”

Harry tried to think of a way to say what he was thinking without insulting Draco. As much as Draco didn’t want to disappoint Harry, Harry felt the same way.

“I was afraid you were trying to please me. Or _they_ were.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s not ego. People are constantly trying to get in my good books. I’m not saying that’s your reasoning. I’m . . . I’m just pleased it’s not. I–

“Harry.” Draco laughed. “Stop falling all over yourself. I’m not insulted. In the past, it’s exactly the sort of thing I would have done. But you know, it makes me happy to see my mother happy. My aunt is a lovely woman and Teddy . . . well, I’m sure he’ll grow on me.”

“Do you think it would be all right if I joined you next time? Or would you prefer not to tell them about us?” Harry asked.

“I would be happy for the support. Perhaps you could help me entertain my cousin while the women talk.”

“Excellent.” Harry beamed. “Are you ready for pudding?”

“Eton mess, you say? I’ve always wanted to eat cream and strawberries . . . from a firm, flat belly such as yours.”

Harry’s cock twitched at the visual in his head.

“I’m sure I could arrange that.”

hdhdhdhd

“Where are you going?” Draco asked groggily.

“It’s late. We have work in the morning.” Harry kissed Draco’s temple. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You could stay. You’ve stayed before.”

“On the weekend. Or by accident.” Harry laughed.

“What’s the difference? My bed is cold without you no matter the day of the week.”

Harry stood, hesitating. “I guess I could get up a little early to go home and shower.”

Draco reached out a hand, beckoning him to get back into bed. Harry slid his trousers off and pulled his shirt over his head, then slipped between the covers. Draco immediately spooned him, wrapping his arm around his waist.

“That’s better,” he whispered against his neck. “Goodnight my love.”

Harry lay awake a while after he heard the heavy, rhythmic breathing behind him. He was more content than he had been in a very long time. Every night he spent in Draco’s bed made it difficult to face his own lonely room. It was surprising how quickly Harry had gotten used to the company he never thought he needed. Even more surprising was how his former enemy made him feel more loved than nearly anyone else.


	14. Did I Pass?

“Is everything all right between you and Draco?” Hermione asked as they sat at their table in the canteen.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because he hasn’t come over to ask you about supper plans. And now he’s leaving.”

“What?” Harry turned to see his lover walking out with colleagues. “Oh, well, it’s not like he has to talk to me every day. He has other friends you know.”

“Yes, but he always stops by. You don’t think it’s something Ron and I have done, do you?”

“No. Why? Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” Harry joked. “And is Ron really sick today? He seemed fine yesterday.” 

“Between you and me, I think he’s skiving,” she said. “He’s been acting . . . I don’t know if secretive is the right word. But something is going on.”

“Does it have anything to do with Draco?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He’s been quite amiable. We all have. So, I wonder why he didn’t come over.”

“I don’t know. A couple weeks ago, he was asking me to stay over, on a work night. And we’ve been spending every weekend together. He’s practically moved me into his flat.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“I’m not sure.”

hdhdhdhd

“Knock, knock,” Harry said as he rapped on the door jamb outside Draco’s office.

Draco looked up and smiled. “Looking for me, I hope.”

“Of course. You didn’t stop by to talk about supper plans for tonight.”

His smile fading, Draco said, “You didn’t come to me either.”

“I know. Because you always come to me.”

“I am acutely aware of that.”

Harry frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t feel like nothing. Have I done something to upset you?”

“No. I have.”

“I don’t understand.”

Draco sighed. “I’ve been moving too quickly for you, haven’t I? It’s all right, you don’t have to answer. I know I have.”

Harry moved closer. “Draco, I’m very happy with you. If I’ve done something to make you think otherwise, tell me.”

“Perhaps it’s just a bit of ego,” Draco said, taking one of Harry’s hands. “I’ve never had to do so much of the chasing. I’m usually the one pursued.” He chuckled at himself. “I am an arrogant prat, aren’t I?”

“No. Maybe at one time you were. You’re a proud man, but there’s nothing wrong with taking pride in yourself.”

“It’s not pride I feel when I’m with you, Harry. I love you. And while I’ve said those words to others, I’m not certain now that I truly meant them. Because I’ve never felt the need–the ache.” Draco closed his eyes. “I’m no longer complete without you. And I’m terrified of losing you, so I’m holding on too tightly.”

“Draco, look at me.”

He opened his eyes.

“Do I look like I’m trying to get away?” Harry asked. “I’m not very good at the boyfriend thing, I’ll admit. I should probably be taking the initiative more often. I’ve been enjoying the way you take care of me, the way you make love to me, making me feel special. Merlin, I haven’t been doing any of that for you. Shite. I’m really a crap boyfriend. No wonder none of my other relationships ever worked out.”

“Harry.”

“I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Harry–”

“What do you want to do for supper? No, wait, I’ll plan it. I’ll plan something nice. And this weekend. I’ll take you away somewhere.”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do all that. You’re not a crap boyfriend.”

“You’re being kind. But I want to do nice things for you. I thought I was being nice by letting you plan things the way you wanted. But I get the message. Let me take care of you a bit, yeah?”

Draco smiled. “If that will make you happy,”

“I already told you, I’m happy with you. I want you to feel that way too.” He leaned down and gave Draco a quick kiss. “Meet me at the floos after work. Gotta run.”

Alone in his office without Ron, Harry’s mind wandered to all the things he wanted to do with Draco. How could he have been so blind and stupid? He thought about how many times he turned Draco down before agreeing to give it a go. Harry had no problem leading a team of Aurors and taking charge of an investigation. But when it came to love affairs, he fell woefully short.

Draco, on the other hand, was extremely skilled at showing and telling Harry how he felt. The telling part was difficult for Harry, but he could certainly do a better job of showing Draco he felt the same way.

hdhdhdhd

“You didn’t have to choose such an upscale restaurant,” Draco told Harry, though clearly, he appreciated the menu. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Harry said. “You deserve it.”

“Because I whinged earlier?”

“No, you didn’t whinge. I’m glad you were honest with me. It’s something I would have appreciated hearing from some of my past lovers.”

Draco’s smile dropped.

“Oh.” Harry shook his head. “Not that I regret no longer being with any of them. I only meant that if any of them had voiced their complaints, I might be a better boyfriend for you now. I mistakenly thought letting you control the direction of our relationship was being thoughtful or courteous. But now I see that it was being lazy.”

“Harry, I shouldn’t have complained.”

“Yes, you should have. I’ve asked for what I want from you. I’ve accepted all that you gave. I want to give back.”

Smirking, Draco asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“I want us to get together with Blaise and Pansy.”

Draco laughed out loud. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“I’m serious. You’re making the effort with Ron and Hermione. It’s about time I did the same with your friends. Perhaps some day we’ll come to think of the four of them as _our_ friends.”

“I would enjoy that,” Draco admitted.

“Then you’ll arrange it?”

“I’ll find out what they’re doing this weekend.”

hdhdhdhd

Harry glanced around his sitting room for about the hundredth time.

“It’s only Pans and Blaise. The place is more than ready for guests. If you ask me, these canapés are too good for them.” Draco grinned, then popped one in his mouth.

“I want to make a good impression. I’m not certain what to expect.” Harry paused.   
What _should_ I expect?”

“They aren’t terribly different from me. Both raised in pureblood society. I believe one of Blaise’s half-brothers is actually my second cousin.” 

“Really? But not Blaise himself?”

“His mum has married and buried so many men it’s difficult to keep track.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “And what about Pansy? Is she related to you as well?”

“Yes, but much more distantly. We only share a great, great, and probably another great, grandmother.”

“What about significant others?” Harry asked. “Will either of them be bringing a boyfriend or girlfriend? I should have asked earlier.”

“Blaise and Pansy have an on-off sort of relationship with one another.”

“Is it off or on?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. But neither of them is bringing a date. So perhaps they’re on at the moment.”

The fireplace suddenly whooshed to life, Blaise’s face appearing in the flames.

“All right to come through?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” Harry said, smiling nervously.

They all greeted each other with handshakes and formal introductions. Harry offered beverages and canapés, and they sat in various seats in the sitting room of Grimauld Place. Pansy chose the over-stuffed arm chair, while Blaise sat in a plain, hard-backed chair on the other side of the coffee table. That left Harry and Draco to sit together on the sofa.

At first, Harry merely listened to the others catching up on gossip. He wasn’t particularly interested in hearing about who was getting married, who was in the middle of a scandal, or how much money some rich, old pureblood made on the sale of his estate. Especially when he didn’t recognize any of the names mentioned. He tried to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully.

“We boring you, Potter?” Blaise teased.

“Sorry. No.”

Draco patted Harry’s knee. “It’s all right. Most of the gossip is boring to us as well.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pansy told him. “I love weddings. I’ve already got my own planned out.”

“Except for the groom,” Blaise murmured. 

Pansy glared, and Harry suspected Draco was wrong about their on-off status.

“Ron and Hermione are getting married,” Harry said, thinking he was adding to the pureblood gossip.

“Weasley? Is it going to be in a barn?” Pansy laughed.

“Pans,” Draco gave a warning.

“No,” Harry said. “It will be in their backyard, same as all the brothers’ weddings. I only attended Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but it was lovely.They had a large tent decorated with fairy lights and flowers, with the meadow as a backdrop. And Molly cooked all the food herself. It was a fine party . . . until the Death Eaters attacked.”

Both Blaise and Pansy lowered their gazes. If Harry read their expressions correctly, he saw a touch of guilt.

“But that’s in the past,” Harry continued. “What do you imagine your wedding to be?”

“I imagine it will be in the ballroom of my father’s manor. At least ten bridesmaids and two flower girls. My gown will be made at Twilfitt and Tattings, of course. Or perhaps I’ll go to one of those famous Muggle wedding shops.”

“Muggle?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Like most of us former Pureblood fanatics, Pansy has come to appreciate that sometimes Muggle ways are . . . superior,” Draco offered.

“When it comes to fashion, at any rate,” Pansy agreed.

Blaise held up his pilsner of butter beer. “True. I’m tired of seeing sexy witches covered up in flowing robes.”

“I definitely won’t be covered up on my wedding day.”

“Pans, love, you’re never covered up.” Blaise smirked.

“And you love it.” She drew a finger down her chest into her sizable cleavage.

Harry watched them as they bantered. He still wasn’t certain if they were on or off as a couple. He recognized the look of lust in Blaise’s eyes, though. When he glanced at Pansy, she still had her hand on her breast, drawing soft circles as she licked her lips. He quickly looked away.

“What about you, Potter?” Blaise asked. “You’re the most eligible bachelor in all the wizarding world. I suppose your wedding will be quite the event.”

Harry’s brow drew together. “I never thought of it. I never thought I’d get married.”

Draco’s head whipped around. “Why not?”

“Um, well, men can’t get married to each other. I’m not going to marry a woman.”

“You mean in the Muggle world. Same gender marriages happen all the time in the wizarding world.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of one.”

“What about Hortense and Josephine Caron?” Blaise chimed in.

“Josephine? You mean Joe.”

“Joe is short for Josephine.”

“Crikey, I thought she was man,” Harry said.

“She is rather ghastly,” Pansy chuckled. “And she dresses in mens clothing. But really, Harry, any observant person can see she’s a woman.” She leaned forward. “Perhaps not quite the woman I am.”

Draco smirked. “No one is quite the woman you are.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Blaise took a sip of his butter beer. “Daphne Greengrass is quite a woman too.”

“Fuck off,” Pansy spit. “Harry, may I use your loo?”

“Of course. It’s just down the hall, to the right.”

When she left the room, Draco stood. “More butter beer anyone? Or should we move on to fire whisky?”

“I’ll have a shot or two,” Blaise grinned.

“I’ll help you,” Harry said, standing.

“No, you stay and talk to Blaise. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Harry tried to start a conversation, perhaps asking about his job or family. But Blaise beat him to it.

“Don’t pay any mind to Pansy. She’s only trying to make me jealous. Besides, she’s barking up the wrong tree with you, innit?”

“Uh.”

“I mean, she hasn’t got what you want. Not like I do.” Blaise winked.

Wide-eyed, Harry sat motionless as Zabini moved to sit next to him on the sofa.

“So, just how serious is this thing with Draco?”

“Um, fairly serious,” Harry answered, attempting to slide further away. “We, um, are _very_ serious, actually. We’re dating exclusively.”

Blaise placed his hand on Harry’s knee. “You certain there’s not room for one more?”

“Zabini.” Draco walked into the room with a tray holding for shot glasses and half a bottle of fire whisky. Despite his verbal warning, he appeared non-plussed at the sight of his best friend’s hand caressing his boyfriend’s thigh.

Harry, however, jumped off the couch just as Pansy came back. She glanced from Blaise to Harry and frowned.

“Hm, and what were you boys up to while I was gone?”

“Nothing,” Harry said. “Fire whiskey?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

After they’d all had a shot, Draco directed the conversation to Quidditch. Harry finally began to relax, though occasionally Pansy and Blaise would either wink or make a suggestive comment. Looking to Draco for guidance on how to respond, Harry was surprised that his normally jealous boyfriend had no reaction at all.

By the time Draco’s friends were ready to leave, Harry had learned a great deal about them. Blaise’s family ran a winery, making wizard wine exclusively. Like Draco, he had abandoned many of his pureblood prejudices. And Harry highly suspected him of being bisexual. Pansy, on the other hand, still followed most of the pureblood traditions of her family. Though, she seemed more open-minded than the generation before her. She longed to breed and raise unicorns, but Ministry restrictions limited her opportunities. She was happy to attend social functions and teas, and plan her wedding. Harry thought she ought to simply have a posh gala and skip the wedding, as she didn’t appear to be interested in the marriage that would follow.

Afterward, as he and Harry cleaned up, Draco picked up the empty whisky bottle. “This was a necessary evil.”

“Was it?” Harry asked, picking up dishes and glasses left over from the evening.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco scoffed. “It was for me. You handled yourself well, though.”

“I don’t know about that. I didn’t know what to say half the time.”

“You said and did all the right things.”

“How do you know?”

Draco laughed. “Because they both congratulated me.”

“On what?”

“Finding a faithful lover in wizarding’s most eligible bachelor. And, believe me, they tried to their best to entice you.”

“That was a test?” Harry’s brow furrowed. “You were testing me?”

“No. Not me. They were merely looking out for my best interests.” The corner of Draco’s mouth rose. “And having a bit of fun. It was a win-win for them.”

“How so?”

“Either they would have found you to be a suitable match for me, with honorable intentions, or they would have gotten to have a hump with The Chosen One.”


	15. A New Year

“Oi, what do you have there?” Pete Quimby asked.

Harry merely blushed.

“Is that–is that a pair of handcuffs?”

“He’s done it again,” Harry grumbled.

Pete laughed. “You’re only cheesed because you didn’t think to do it to him this year.”

“I thought we were rather past that. Even after a year, embarrassing me still seems to be Draco’s favourite pastime.”

“But at least this year, you know who’s sending you naughty Christmas gifts. Do you think he’s actually your Secret Santa or do you think he nicked your real gifts again?”

Harry smirked. “It doesn’t matter either way. I’m going to lock him up and teach him a lesson.”

“More than I needed to know,” Quimby groused, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Stop,” Harry commanded. “No nick-names this year. We called a truce, remember?”

Harry’s new Auror partner nodded. “Aye, that we did. I can’t come up with one to go with handcuffs at the moment anyway.”

Though Harry missed Ron’s company in the office and on missions, he knew his best friend was much happier partnering up with George. Pete made a fine enough Auror partner, but he and Harry had only been together six months. They were still getting to know each other.

Draco popped his head in the door.

“Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah.” Harry quickly covered the handcuffs on his desk with some parchment paper.

“Oh, by the way,” Draco began, “the only night we can get together with Blaise and Pansy is the thirty-first.”

“What? New Year’s Eve? But the Ministry party . . .”

“We’ll make our own party.”

“But what about Ron and Hermione?”

“Invite them as well.” Draco paused at Harry’s expression. “Oh, come now. It wasn’t that bad the last time we were all in the same room together.”

“Pansy tried to put her hand down Ron’s trousers.”

“It was a dare. I’ll tell her to be on her best behaviour. Besides, she and Blaise are on again, so he’ll be able to keep her in line.”

“But I was looking forward to the Ministry Gala.What if Ron and Hermione choose that instead of my place?”

“Then we’ll see them on the first.”

“Fine.”

hdhdhdhd

Harry and Ron sat in the Weasley sitting room eating treacle tarts and pumpkin pasties Christmas day. Presents had all been exchanged and dinner eaten. Ginny had left to spend time with her new boyfriend, and the elder Weasley brothers had taken their families home.

“You could have brought Draco, you know. Mum’s still not sure how she feels about you dating Lucius’ son, but she wants you to be happy. She would have welcomed him for your sake.”

“I know. He needed to spend it with his own family. It’s the first time Narcissa and Andromeda have gotten together during the season in . . . well, I don’t even know how long.”

Ron nodded and took a big bite of tart.

“Speaking of getting together,” Harry began, “Draco and I are hosting a New Year’s Eve party.”

Ron stopped chewing for a moment. “Whah?” He asked with his mouth full.

“We haven’t really hosted anything as a couple. I thought it might be fun.”

“But what about the Ministry Gala?”

“You don’t even work there anymore.”

“Yeah, but I heard there’s going to be surf and turf. They’re going all out,” Ron whinged.

“How about if we serve surf and turf?” Harry asked. “We could still dress up and toast the new year in style. It’ll be fun. There’s even enough room for everyone to stay over so you can all get pissed and not have to apparate home.”

“Who do you mean by everyone?”

“You, Hermione . . .” Harry looked away. “Blaise and Pansy,” he added quickly.

“You expect Hermione to celebrate with Parkinson after what she did?”

“Draco said it was only a dare. He found out later that Blaise egged her on. She didn’t mean anything by it. Hell, the first time I met with them, they both tried to seduce me.” Harry chuckled.

“Both? I didn’t know Zabini swung that way.”

“He doesn’t. He was only seeing if I would take the bait. Actually, he and Pansy are an item. So, she’ll probably keep her hands off you this time.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Ron said. “Just the fact that you said _probably_ is enough to worry.”

“Draco promised they’d both be on their best behaviour. What do you say? The six of us ringing in the new year together. If it doesn’t go well, I promise I won’t push for it again.”

Ron pursed his lips. “I’ll have to ask Hermione.”

“Please do. But if she’s truly against the idea, Draco and I will stop by on the first to wish you both a happy new year.”

“Ask Hermione what?” the woman in question asked.

Ron kept quiet, allowing Harry to be the bearer of bad news.

“Draco and I would like to spend New Year’s Eve with all of our friends. So, we’d like you and Ron to join us, along with Pansy and Blaise.”

“You’re not going to the Ministry Gala? I bought a new dress and everything.”

“You can still wear it,” Harry suggested. “Why don’t we all dress for a gala?”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “But do we really have to spend it with Parkinson? I don’t trust her.”

“I promise she won’t misbehave. I’ll make it quite clear to her that she must keep her hands to herself. Besides, Ron would never give her a second look. He’s devoted to you.”

Ron nodded emphatically.

She sighed. “All right.”

“Brilliant.” Harry smiled. “Thank you. I’ll let Draco know. He will be very appreciative.”

hdhdhdhd

“You look smashing.” Harry said to Draco. “I adore the gold sparkly bow tie.”

“I thought it might be nice to be more festive.”

“But now I look boring.”

“I could never get bored looking at you,” Draco said. He pulled Harry in for a kiss. “But if you want, I could transfigure your tie to match.”

“Please.” Harry stood still while Draco waved his wand over the tie. 

Draco stared at Harry. “I love you.”

“I know,” Harry snickered. “Why do you look so serious?”

“This has been the best year of my life. I’m almost afraid to move on.”

“It’s just going to get better. I promise. Now, help me get the rest of the food set up. They’ll be here any minute.”

Draco grabbed Harry’s hand. There weren’t many times Draco appeared less than confident. Harry wondered if he was simply nervous about all of their friends spending time together. Or was Draco superstitious about the year change? Either way, his hand was shaking.

Harry grasped Draco’s other hand. “I don’t know why you’re trembling. But there’s nothing to fear. Whatever happens–tonight, or any other night–I’ll be by your side to face it with you. I love you, Draco. I’m sorry I haven’t managed to say the words before now. It’s not because I haven’t felt them.” 

Draco’s eyes sparkled, and not just with tears. Harry was still learning to communicate his feelings better. But he’d finally overcome the last hurdle in opening his heart completely to Draco. He felt vulnerable, and realized Draco had probably been feeling that way for many months. 

They were still kissing passionately when Ron and Hermione stepped through the floo.

“Whoa. It’s not midnight yet,” Ron joked.

“Just getting in some practice,” Draco smirked. “I’ll get the other tray,” he said to Harry.

Harry smiled, thinking there was a bit more bounce to Draco’s step than there had been earlier. It pleased him to know he put it there.

“Hermione you look stunning. Glad to see you wore dress robes, Ron.”

“Almost didn’t. Hermione insisted.”

“And rightly so,” she said. “Harry, you look very handsome. However, I suspect it has less to do with your clothes, and more to do with Draco.”

Nodding, Harry said, “It has everything to do with him.”

Blaise and Pansy showed up shortly thereafter. The women complimented one another on their dresses, while the men shook hands. Draco offered starters while Harry poured the wine Blaise brought form his family’s winery. Even with the sofa extended and the armchair widened, the seating was cozy. It seemed Pansy was too wrapped up in Blaise to give Ron a second thought this time around. But she did suggest they all play a game or two.

“We don’t have games except for chess,” Harry said. “You can’t play that with six people.”

“How about two truths and a lie?” Hermione offered.

“What’s that?”

“It was a game we played in Muggle school. Each person tells three things about him or herself. Two are true and one is made up. Everyone else has to guess which is the lie.”

“It’ll be hard for you and I to come up with lies and not have the other one guess right away, Ron said.

“Well, it can be something from your youth. For example, did you know that I played the lead in my school’s production of Snow White?”

“You did? I didn’t know that.”

Hermione laughed. “That’s because it’s a lie, Ron. You see? It’s easy.”

“Ooh, I think I like this game,” Pansy said. “Either your truths can be outrageous, or your lie completely plausible. I want to go first.”

Harry held his breath wondering what Pansy would come up with.

“I once had sex in a Ministry elevator. I shagged two professors at Hogwarts. And I lost my virginity at fourteen.”

“They don’t all have to be about shagging, love,” Blaise said.

“Of course they do. It’s supposed to be fun.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “Well I certainly hope there weren’t any professors at Hogwarts that would take advantage of a young girl, so I’m going to say that’s your lie.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at Pansy. “I think you would have told me if you lost your virginity to Knott. Isn’t that who you were dating back then? That one is the lie.”

Grinning, Blaise said, “I don’t think you’ve ever stepped foot in the Ministry. I’m going with that one.”

Pansy turned to Ron. “It’s a three-way tie so far. How do you vote?”

Ron’s brow furrowed. “They all could easily be true. I can think of a professor or two who’d shag a student. Not that I have any proof, mind you. But the Ministry elevators move at a fast pace. It would have to have been with a man who . . . was quick on the draw.”

Everyone laughed.

“I’m guessing if you had actually lost your virginity to Theo Knott, you wouldn’t have wanted to admit it,” Ron continued.

“Stop thinking like an Auror, Ron. Take a guess,” Hermione said. 

“Fine. You didn’t lose your virginity at fourteen. Harry’s turn.”

“Um, the elevator one. So, which is it?”

“Hermione won. There may have been a few professors that wanted to shag a sexy young thing like me, but, eeew. They were all so old.”

“Is that all that was stopping you?” Blaise snorted.

They took turns all telling their truths and lies. And by the time they’d all finished, it was only half-eleven.

“What should we do now?” Harry asked.

“How about charades?” Draco put forward.

“You’re suggesting another game? I thought you didn’t care much for games.”

Draco shrugged. “It’s a party. And that game was entertaining enough.”

Pansy clapped her hands. “I love games. Charades sounds delightful. How should we break into teams? Three and three?”

“No,” Draco said. “Couples.”

“How about if we mix it up to make it more interesting?” Blaise wriggled his eyebrows.

“No, I want to be Harry’s partner.”

“All right.” Harry grinned at him. It seemed ever since Harry finally confessed his love, Draco wasn’t loosening his grip in the slightest. Not that Harry minded. “What category should we use? It can’t be something like books or films because Pansy and Blaise don’t know Muggle cinema and literature.”

“How about famous wizards?” Ron asked.

“I think it would be difficult to act out a person’s name.”

“We could stick to wizarding books. Or perhaps songs.”

“Songs. That’s a good idea, Blaise,” Harry said. “But they should be wizarding songs. No Muggle opera, Draco and Hermione.”

“I’ve got one,” Ron said. “Can I go first and get it over with?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re so enthusiastic.”

“We need a timer.” Pansy waved her wand, reciting a quick spell. An hourglass hovered nearby. “Two minutes?”

“Is that enough?” Draco asked. “We want our partners to have enough time to guess.”

“All right. Three.” Pansy waved her wand again and a bit more red sand appeared inside the hourglass. “Go.”

They all watched as Ron held up two fingers.

“Two words,” Hermione said.

Ron nodded and held up one finger.

“First word,” Pansy said.

“You’re not supposed to guess, love. It’s Hermione’s turn,” Blaise told her.

Ron was holding his hand over his eyes and groping around with the other.

“You can’t see,” Hermione said. “You’re blind.”

Ron took his hand away and pointed to his nose. He just stood there grinning.

“What’s the second word?” Hermione asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. Clearly, he expected Hermione to get it on the first word alone. He looked around and shrugged.

“Blind Shrug. Blind Shoulder.”

“No. That’s not a bloody clue,” Ron said.

“Oi, no talking aloud,” Blaise complained.

Sighing, Ron pushed the end of his nose up.

Hermione continued guessing. “Blind Nose. Nose Blind?”

Ron shook his head. He got down on all fours and pushed his nose up again.

“Kneeling. Um, on the ground. Blind Ground? Blind Animal?”

Ron nodded and gestured with his hand for her to keep guessing. 

“An animal. Oh, it must be a pig.”

Standing, Ron held out his arms. “I always knew my wife was brilliant.”

“Blind Pig? I’ve never even heard of that. Why did you pick it?” Hermione asked.

“Because it was easy to act out.”

“That’s a jazz tune. American, I think,” Blaise said.

“That’s right. Mum always listens to music on the Wireless. I’ve heard it loads of times.”

“Our turn,” Pansy squealed.

As hard as she tried, she could only get Blaise to guess the second and fourth words of her song title. The others had a quick go, but none of them guessed Weasley Is Our King within the three minutes allotted.

“We’ve got just ten minutes before midnight,” Harry said. “We should pour champagne.”

“There’s still time,” Draco said. “My turn first.”

Once again, Pansy turned the hourglass.

“Four words,” Harry said, as Draco held up his fingers, then two. “Second word.”

Draco pointed at Harry.

“Me?”

Draco nodded.

“The second word is me.”

Draco shook his head and pointed again.

“You just said it was me.”

Somewhat frustrated, Draco gestured to himself, then pointed at Harry again.

“Oh. You.”

Draco smiled and held up four fingers. Then, he pointed to himself.

“You. No, pointing at me was you. So pointing at yourself means me. Blimey, this is so confusing.”

One finger.

“First word.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, then he tugged his ear.

“Ear?”

“No, Harry, I think that means it sounds like something else he’s going to act out,” Hermione said.

“What is with you women? You’re not supposed to help the other teams,” Blaise whinged.

“But we didn’t establish all the rules beforehand,” Hermione defended herself. Is that what you mean, Draco?”

He nodded.

“All right.” Harry directed his attention toward Draco, who appeared to be pretending to stab Blaise repeatedly.

“I hope this is a clue and not what you actually want to do to me,” Blaise joked.

“Stab. Stabbing. Um, murder. Um, kill.”

Draco touched his nose, indicating Harry was on the right track.

“Kill. Bill? Dill? Fill?”

“Are you going to go through the whole bloody alphabet?” Ron asked.

Ignoring him, Harry continued. “Gill? Hill? Jill? Kill? No, kill was the clue. Lill, mill, nil, pill, quill, sill, till, vill, will–

Again, Draco touched his nose.

“Finally.” Ron rolled his eyes.

Draco held up three fingers, then tugged his ear.

“Sounds like . . . hug?” Harry questioned when Draco mimed having something in his arms. “Lift, hold, um cradle.”

“Jeez, _Harry_.” Ron clamped his hand over his own mouth.

“No hints, Weasley,” Blaise said.

“Carry!” Harry shouted. “Sounds like carry. Barry, fairy, Gary, Harry. Not Harry. Larry. Mary.”

Draco touched his nose. For a moment Harry blinked, trying to remember all the words he guessed, and in what order. The room was silent.

“You. Me. Will. Mary. Who are Will and Mary?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “It’s out of order.”

Harry stared for a moment, then whispered, “Will you marry me?”

Draco slowly sunk down on one knee.

“That’s not a song.” Harry took a deep breath.

“No. It’s a question I’d like very much for you to answer.”

Harry held up a finger and nodded.

His voice barely above a whisper, Draco said, “One word. Yes.”

Harry knelt down and kissed Draco. He heard movement around them, but couldn’t be arsed to pay attention to what anyone else was doing. Though Draco’s question had been unexpected, Harry knew the timing was flawless. Engaged to man he loved was the perfect way to begin the new year. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold ring with an onyx inlay.

“This was my great grandfather’s. But if you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.”

Harry held out his hand in answer.

“Come on, you two,” Ron said. “Thirty seconds to midnight. And we have several things to toast tonight.

As they stood, Ron handed them each a glass of champagne. Ron took his glass from Hermione and held it up.

“To Harry and Draco. May you be as happy as Hermione and me.”

Hermione smiled. “Cheers.”

They all clinked their glasses together just as the grandfather clock in the hall began to chime twelve o’clock. Kisses and wishes for the new year were freely given among the unlikely group coming together in friendship. 

Having planned her wedding not long ago, Hermione was taken into Pansy’s confidence regarding Harry and Draco’s wedding. It seemed that if she didn’t have one of her own to plan, she’d happily plan theirs. 

Harry stood aside watching Draco talk to Blaise. Draco’s demeanor was a one-hundred-eighty degree turnaround from earlier. In fact, he was downright bubbly. Harry supposed the champagne could have a little something to do with it. He suspected he himself hadn’t stopped smiling since Draco’s proposal.

Ron kissed Hermione’s cheek, leaving her to discuss venues and dress robes with Pansy, and stood next to Harry.

“This is what you want?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. It is. This is what I’ve wanted for a long time, I suppose. All of us coming together. I also suppose I’m quite selfish for wanting it all.”

“A bit.”

Harry elbowed him in the ribs. “What do you think your family will say?”

“ _My_ family? They’re yours too. And I think they’ll be thrilled.” Ron took a sip of champagne. “Do you think we ought to tell the girls there’s no point in discussing wedding plans? Mum’s going to have the last say anyway.”

Harry laughed. “Nah. They’re getting along and having fun. Besides, they’ll all have to contend with Narcissa.”

“Why are we surrounded by such bossy women?” Ron laughed.

They stood in comfortable silence, drinking and contemplating the new year. Harry was lost in thought, rubbing his finger over the ring to which he was unaccustomed, when Ron spoke again.

“Happy New Year, Harry.”

“Happy New Year, Ron.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete and posted on another site. I'll be cleaning it up and posting here, hopefully to coincide in real-time with Christmas.


End file.
